I Will Remember You
by Ely-Baby
Summary: In the Last Battle against Voldemort, Harry has lost all his friends. Now he is alone, or he thinks he is, until... HHr R
1. The Boy Who Survived The Last Battle

Disclaimer: Well, ok, I guess I have to write things like 'I'm not JKR' or 'Nothing of what you see belongs to me' etc. But if I were JKR? And if I wrote all the HP books? Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh, eh – sigh! No ok, I'm not JKR and nothing of what you can recognize belongs to me! Sigh!

A/N: Ok, that's not my first fan fiction, but it's my first H/Hr ff! I hope you all like it! I don't know how often I will be able to update it, because my exams are getting extremely close (I know that June is not all that near, but for me it is!). The last thing is that I'm Italian, so you will please forgive all my mistakes? Oh, yes I really hope that you'll like it!

To Keri Hayes: Thank you very much for beta reading this chapter! I have to thank you because my chapter won't be a complete mess, but it will be almost ok! Thank you very much girl!

**The Boy Who Survived the Last Battle**

Harry woke up in the middle of the night with his forehead covered in sweat. His body was shaking furiously.

Why did he have to suffer through the same dream every night? Why did that dream have to be so terrible?

He was almost afraid to close his eyes, afraid to sleep.

He sat on his bed and stretched his arm on the bedside table searching for his glasses and his wand in the dark. When he found them he put his glasses on his nose and taking his wand in the right hand, he muttered "Lumos". Weak sparks flew from his wand.

He took his watch from the same bedside table and read the hour.

2.30 a.m.

It was early. So damn early.

It didn't really matter. Harry didn't do anything during the day; there was nothing to do, so he didn't have to sleep very much.

He looked around his room, it was one of the best that Tom had. There were two beds, a table, a wardrobe, a chair, and the day before Tom had given him an armchair.

He had also the bathroom, and for a couple of minutes, when he opened the tops, the water was almost hot, then it turned as cold as ice.

At least that bedroom wasn't destroyed like almost all the magic world in Britain.

He looked at the calendarwhich somebody had hung next to the broken mirror. Ludo Bagman was snoring loudly above the little square with the number of the days.

Harry had already crossed 13 pigeonholes, that day was the fourteenth.

The fourteenth of September.

It was almost five months that Harry has been living at the Leaky Cauldron, exactly five months that he has defeated Voldemort, five months that Ron, Hermione, Malfoy, Ginny, all the Weasleys, most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix and loads of others brave wizards and witches died in the Final Battle.

Harry got up and quickly took a cold shower, and then returned to the bedroom with a towel around his hips.

He was soaking the floor, but he really didn't care. It was just water.

He sat on the chair and picked up a leather album.

On the cover the letters 'HARRY J. POTTER' were shining at the light of his wand.

It was his present for his 23rd birthday, from Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

He opened it. The first picture was the one that they took the last day of school, when they received their N.E.W.T.s.

They seemed so happy, and they must have been happy, but Harry couldn't remember that sensation.

He turned page, on the second picture Harry and Ron were carrying Hermione, who was protesting loudly, to the lake on the ground near Hogwarts.

On the third photo Ron had managed to enter Ginny's bedroom while she and Hermione were getting ready for a feast; Ginny's head was covered with rollers and Hermione's face was green because of some kind of seaweeds beauty cream. They were screaming and running towards Ron.

The next photograph portrayed Ron with a black eye.

He kept watching the pictures for hours and when he arrived at the end of the album he watched it again.

The pictures and the nightmarewere the only things that he had for remembering his friends.

Slowly the first light of dawn entered the open window.

Rubbing his eyes, Harry sat up and moved sleepily towards the wardrobe. He opened it, there were a pair of old, dirty and broken jeans, a green shirt, a red t-shirt and two socks, one was blue and the other grey.

That was all he had, besides two pairs of pants and a pair of tennis shoes.

He wore a pair of jeans and the red t-shirt then went downstairs.

The Leaky Cauldron was empty and silent. Harry had been the only client for almost five months, and then it was six in the morning.

He decided to go out for a walk before breakfast, so he exited and found himself in what remained of Diagon Alley.

The morning sun lighted the ruins of the houses and of most of the shops.

A small shop with dusty windows stood still between two collapsed buildings.

It was Ollivander's, one of the three buildings that existed still in Diagon Alley.

The other two were the Gringotts and the Leaky Cauldron.

Why only that three buildings? Nobody knew, or better Harry didn't know and he didn't have the chance or the will to ask anybody.

He knew that also Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic still existed because he went there after the Battle, and also half of St. Mungo, because they took him there when he was badly injured, but others places like Hogsmeade had been cancelled from Earth.

He walked till he reached Gringotts; some goblins were spying on him from behind the curtains of the window.

When Harry spotted them, they disappeared into the darkbank.

Harry sighed.

The goblins were some of the few magic creatures that survived the Battle.

All the house-elves dyed, nobody knew if there was a living centaur in all Britain and all the hippogriffs were gone.

He passed by the Bank and looked at what one time was the shop that sold out all the necessary for potions. Now it was nothing. No. It was less than nothing. Just a ruin.

Some wind raised the dust from the road and Harry felt the odd sensation of being in a western movie.

Diagon Alley was like a ghost city, or better a 'ghost way'.

Every now and then some wizards or witches arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, but they never stayed there for more than a day.

They brought news from the place they came from, but they were very rare. Sometimes they were also bandits or wizards that did something illegal to earn the money they needed for eating. Sometimes they were merchants that sold everything, from dresses to wands, from glasses to bottles of whisky.

Once, Harry had bought his grey sock from an old man that sold only odd socks.

Harry squatted down and picked up a piece of a sign.

He could read only '-of All The Occ-'. He threw it away, then got up and walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron.

He was looking at the houses in the Muggle world now.

It was strange that he could see everything and everybody, but nobody could see him or what was left of Diagon Alley from the Muggle way.

He didn't know why, but the force that his and Voldemort's wands stirred up during the Last Battle passing on the Muggle World leaving it untouched; exactly the contrary of what had happened in the Magic World.

All that Muggles saw when they looked at Diagon Alley was a construction site with big signals of 'Danger, no Trespassing' on them.

But in reality nobody had started to rebuild the alley yet.

It was too early.

'The only good thing is that Knockturn Alley is gone too,' thought Harry looking at what one time was a dark entrance of that way, now it was nothing more than a ruin.

After a brief walk he reached the Leaky Cauldron.

But there was something different from when he left it that morning.

A white unicorn was tied near the door.

It was saddled and it had rein, and behind him there was a cart.

Capturing a unicorn was illegal since before the Battle, Harry knew it, but he also knew that the law in Great Britain wasn't strictly respected anymore.

Anyway there was nobody who could have made respect it.

'It must be a woman, it's not easy for a man to capture a unicorn,' thought Harry, 'Well, lets hope that she hasbrought some news from wherever she is coming from.'

He came near the unicorn and caressed him near the saddle, when he looked at his hand it was covered in a silver substance.

Unicorn's blood, the saddle was cutting its skin.

Harry shook his head and headed angrily for the hall.

When he entered the room where he usually had his meals, he found Tom who was clearing a table.

"Good morning, Tom," said Harry causing the old man to jump.

He looked at Harry and gave him his usual toothless smile, "Good morning, Mr. Potter. Did you sleep well?" he asked in his hoarse voice.

Harry shook his head sitting down on a chair, "No, but it doesn't matter. Did someone arrive?"

Tom smiled again, "Yes, a merchant. He asked me if there was someone else in here and I said there was you, did I do right? I don't think he had seen loads of customers in the last months – toast and tea?" he added.

Harry nodded, "What does he sell?" he asked while Tom disappeared in the kitchen.

"I don't know, but he told me to tell you to go to his room when you have finished your breakfast. If you want, he is in room five," Tom added bringing out a couple piecesof toasts and a cup of tea to Harry.

He didn't go crazy for toasts, but they were some of the last things that remained.

Harry nodded to Tom, who smiled to Harry and headed towards the stairs and Harry's room.

Harry was left at his table alone and decided to pay the merchant a visit.

'Maybe he has something that I need, I can really do with another pair of shoes, and I have to remind him that his illegal unicorn is bleeding," he thought finishing his breakfast.


	2. The Merchant

Disclaimer: Ok, let's try for once on doing a serious disclaimer. I'm not J.K. Rowling, and I don't own anything (oh, wait, I own the merchant…)

A/N: Can I quote myself? "I don't know how often I will be able to update it, because my exams are getting extremely close (I know that June is not all that near, but for me it is!)." That was what I said in my Author's Note to the first chapter. Well, it was the 10th of March 2004, it actually took me a while to update, but I seriously want to finish this fan fiction and I will update as often as I can from now on. I really hope that you all like it. I don't think that the end of this chapter is really cliffy, but I like it anyway (let's just pretend that you didn't read the summary, ok?). As last thing, I usually write something to the people that reviewed, but I don't know if it still means something, since it's more than a year that they had reviewed.

To Magistera: Thank you very much for beta-reading this chapter, you really did a great job. The chapter wouldn't be online if it wasn't for you.

**The Merchant**

Harry glanced at the grandfather clock under the stairs. It was 9:30 a.m. He supposed it didn't matter, since he didn't have an appointment to meet the merchant all Tom had said was, "When you've finished your breakfast". That had been an hour ago, and now he was climbing the stairs up to the Leaky Cauldron's rooms.

When he reached the door that sported a golden '5', he heard a male voice from inside. The tone was harsh, and it sounded like it was giving an order. Harry tried to hear what the voice was saying, but it was too soft for him to make out words.

He knocked on the door, and the voice cut off in mid-sentence.

"What do you want?" the voice asked, in a louder tone.

Harry was surprised at the man's curtness; most of the merchants he'd met were always very polite, since they didn't want to lose potential customers.

"I'm staying down the hall from you. Tom said that you wanted to see me," answered Harry.

"Oh, yes," said the merchant in a much friendlier voice, "Just a moment, sir."

Harry heard someone moving around in the room for a minute or two after that. Maybe he was trying to clean up the room before letting Harry in? Eventually the door burst opened, and a short, fat man stood before Harry. His face was crossed with deep wrinkles, his eyes were red and watery, and his shoulder-length hair was dirty and grey.

He smiled, and Harry noticed that he was missing several teeth. His pudgy fingers were covered with big, gold rings, and his robes were the colorful sort that all wizards had worn before the Last Battle.

"Please, please," he said in that same syrupy voice, "Come in and make yourself comfortable."

Harry doubted that was possible; he disliked the man already.

When he entered the room, he saw two big trunks sitting open on the floor. There were also other goods spread out on the two beds and on the table.

"Take a look at what I've got for sale, I'm sure I have anything you need," he said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

Harry smiled and nodded, but put his hand in his pocket and grasped his wand as he looked over the merchant's goods. It was certainly an eclectic collection. His eyes moved over the array of wands, robes, jewelry and crystal balls, and even some strange-looking plants and roots.

The merchant started to describe the items in turn, touching them as he talked in his sugary voice. Harry ignored him, because he already recognized most of the things the man had for sale, and he didn't want to listen to the man explaining them. Instead, he looked around the room, until his eyes landed on something he hadn't noticed before. A man stood next to the window on the side of the room.

The man was wrapped in a rough maroon cloak, and his face was hidden under a hood, with only a few curls peeking out underneath it. A cord stretched out from underneath the hood, tying him to the headboard of the closest bed. He stood as still as a statue, with his head tilted forward slightly. Besides his hair, only his hands and feet were visible. His hands were tied with the same cord that started from his neck, and he was barefoot. Both hands and feet were covered with bruises and other injuries.

The merchant was still speaking, but Harry could hardly hear him. He was unable to tear his eyes away from the man's injuries. Staring at the man's hands and feet, Harry suddenly realized something. The feet were small, extremely small; the hands were long, but slim. It wasn't a man he was looking at. It was a woman.

Harry took a step towards the bound woman, but the merchant jumped in front of him.

"She is very expensive," he said smiling smarmily, "I doubt if you can afford her."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. The woman was for sale? "I don't think it's legal to sell a human being," he said sharply.

"I don't think there is a law against slavery at this moment, and even if there were, I don't think there's anyone with the power to make me respect it," the merchant replied, losing his sweet tone for a moment.

"Slavery? Is she a slave?" Harry asked. He liked the man less every moment.

The merchant smiled again. He was really getting on Harry's nerves now. "She is a slave. She is my slave. But I'm ready to sell her if you pay well," he said, back to his honeyed voice.

"Are you her owner?" asked Harry even more surprised.

"Yes, I am," answered the merchant slowly.

"Nobody should own another human being," Harry declared, which caused the slimy smile to fade away from the merchant's face.

"I found her, I saved her and she is mine," he said angrily, "I can do whatever I want with her. Her life is mine."

Harry closed his mouth and nodded instead of arguing further. Evidently the man was unscrupulous, dangerous and possibly unbalanced. He didn't want to start a fight with the merchant. The man didn't look all that strong, but he was surely shrewd and not stupid at all. But Harry still felt like he had to help the woman. He wanted to free her even if he had to pay a thousands Galleons for her. "How much does she cost?" he asked curtly.

The merchant smiled again. Harry felt an almost irresistible urge to punch him in the nose.

"You'll have to buy something else too, if you want her," said the merchant.

Harry was getting angry, but he couldn't afford to make an enemy of the merchant if he wanted to free the woman. He let go of his wand and took his hand out of his pocket because he wasn't sure what he would do if he kept holding onto it. He took a deep breath to calm himself down a little.

"What do you suggest?" he asked.

The merchant's smile widened. "I have everything," he replied slimily, "All you have to do is tell me what you need."

Harry thought for a moment. "Do you have a pair of shoes?"

"Hmm," the merchant said, licking his lips. He bent to reach into one of the trunks and pulled out a pair of old and broken shoes.

Harry tried them on. They were four sizes bigger than his own shoes, but he decided to buy them anyway, to convince the merchant to let him buy the woman.

As soon as he took them off, though, the merchant put the shoes away and said, "That was the only pair I had, I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry about? I'll take them," Harry said, glaring at him.

The merchant ignored him, "Is there anything else you need? I've got a very good Invisibility Cloak and-"

"An Invisibility Cloak?" Harry asked, suddenly interested.

"Yes, it's a very good cloak. I found it five months ago and it works perfectly. Maybe it's just a little bit torn, but that's not my fault," the merchant said, digging through the trunk.

"And where did you find it?" Harry asked, trying to sound casual. He had lost his own Invisibility Cloak during the last Battle with Voldemort.

"Up north," the merchant answered vaguely.

"Where exactly?" Harry pressed.

"Why do you want to know?" the merchant asked suspiciously.

Harry shrugged, "I'm just curious," he replied.

"I found it on the ground after that big battle against You-Know-Who. I've got plenty of 'souvenirs' from that place. I found her there as well," said the merchant, still searching through the trunk.

Harry's heart skipped a beat. "What?" he whispered, staring at the girl again.

"Yes," the merchant continued, pulling out the Invisibility Cloak at last and shaking off the dust. "She was crawling over the corpse of a red-haired man. She was calling out a name – now, what was it again?" He screwed up his face, deepening his wrinkles while he was thinking. "It was something short – hmm. She sounded like a banshee, the way she was screaming. You should have heard her. Oh yes, the name was Ron. She was pathetic. It was the third day after the Battle and she was really skinny. You could have counted the ribs under her breasts," he concluded, chuckling.

Harry didn't want to know how the merchant came to see her ribs. He was stunned to hear that she had been calling Ron's name. He shivered.

The merchant's laugh faded away and he started speaking, again, "But she also caused me loads of trouble. She didn't want to leave the corpse. I had to do a Memory Charm in order to carry her away. The only problem is that now she doesn't remember a thing." He sighed, but then gave that slimly little smile again, "But I'm not sure that's a problem after all."

"How much does she cost?" Harry asked again.

"I said that you have to-" the merchant started, but Harry interrupted him.

"I'll buy the Invisibility Cloak. How much does she cost?"

"Three hundred Galleons," said the merchant, smiling.

It was a surprisingly low price. "I'll take her," Harry said, never taking his eyes away from the girl.

The merchant passed one hand through his slimy hair, "Are you sure? You haven't even seen her. Usually the people want to see the girl before buy her. They have always been pleased with her features, of course, but-"

"What do you mean? Have you already sold her to somebody? Then why is she here?" Harry interrupted again.

The merchant became slightly agitated. "No, well I mean – yes, but all the people that bought her brought her back. They thought that she was a little bit strange."

"Strange? How strange?" asked Harry staring at the girl.

"Well, strange – I don't know, just strange." The merchant's tone sharpened. "So do you want her or not?" he asked.

"Yes, I do. Wait here. I'll go and get your money," said Harry. He turned and left, headed for his own room. When he entered room eleven he leaned against the door, trying to will his breathing to slow down. Thousands of thoughts and questions were buzzing through his head. Who was the girl, and why had she been calling Ron's name on the battlefield? What was so strange about her that people kept bringing her back?

He opened the wardrobe and pulled out two loose boards from the bottom. He took out a little strong-box and opened it. It was full of Galleons – all that was left of his fortune.

He took out 300 Galleons, along with some extra for the Invisibility Cloak and returned to merchant's room.

"Here you are. 300 Galleons for the girl and 50 for the Invisibility Cloak. Will that be enough?" Harry asked, shoving the money into the merchant's hand.

"I hadn't planned on asking that much for the cloak, but if you insist," the merchant replied, hastily pouring the Galleons into his pocket, "Take the girl, she's all yours now," he added nodding towards her.

Harry walked over to her and untied the cord, freeing her hands and neck. "Come on," he whispered into the girl's ear. But she only stood motionless, as if she hadn't even heard him.

"Follow him," the merchant ordered sharply. At that, the girl moved to follow Harry, sticking as close to him as his shadow.

"And if she acts strangely, don't tell me that I haven't warned you," the merchant called after them. Harry heard an evil laugh as the door closed behind them.

When they got back to his room Harry locked the door and looked at the girl for a moment. She didn't move. She barely breathed. Harry stepped towards her, his hands coming up to remove her hood.


	3. The Girl Under the Hood

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: Here you are, another chapter! Are you happy? I hope so. Sorry if it took me quite a lot, but my computers (yes, both of them) are broken, so I have to use my father's one and it's terribly slow. Anyway, it's faster than the last update, isn't it? Hey, you are gonna know who was the mysterious girl – what? Not such a big surprise? Uff, never mind. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. Oh, yes, the rating is "T" now, it's for the next chapters. As a last thing I wanted to tell you that I've received 33 reviews and that was really good. So thank to everybody who reviews. Ok, I'll stop it here, I know that nobody reads the Author's Notes, but I like to write them.

To Magistera: Thank you for beta-reading this chapter. You did a very good job.

**The Girl Under the Hood**

The girl was right in front of Harry. All he had to do was reach out and take off her hood, but he was afraid. As soon as the merchant described the way he'd found her, Harry had begun to suspect that she might be someone he knew - maybe even someone that he knew very well.

He even had a suspicion about who she might be, but he didn't want to get his hopes up; she might have been just a girl who was passing by after the battle. But she was screaming Ron's name, and lying on top of his corpse,' Harry thought doubtfully.

"You can take the cloak off," he said to her softly, but she didn't move or speak. He took an uncertain step towards her, but stopped at a couple of feet away.

She didn't draw back, so he took another slow step in her direction. He didn't want to scare her, but she seemed to be either unaware or apathetic about what was happening around her. With one more step he reached her, his face just a few inches away from hers. He still couldn't see her, though, and he needed to know.

He raised his hands and grasped the edges of her hood. Very slowly he slid it off. And then he felt like everything stopped dead – his heart, his breathing, the whole world – when his eyes met two chocolate-brown ones. They were cold and empty, as if all the life had been stripped from them.

Her face was white; her bones were clearly visible under her skin. A mass of bushy brown hair fell all around her face. It was dirty and longer than Harry remembered. Her face, like her hands and feet, was covered with bruises and small wounds.

Harry couldn't speak for several minutes. He just stood there in front of her and gazed at her. She didn't move at all.

"Hermione," he breathed. She didn't so much as blink. He reached out one hand and touched her cheek. It was cold under his fingers. She was like ice; but she still didn't move.

Harry felt a surge of conflicting emotions pass through him. Anger. Happiness. Fear. Shock. Anger. He snatched his hand back. Hermione just stood there, as motionless as ever.

Harry backed out the door without looking away from her. He closed it behind him and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. Turning his head, he saw the merchant's door. He ran down the hall and banged on it furiously.

"Open the door, you bastard," he yelled.

A moment later, the merchant opened the door with that same slimy smile. "Ah," he said sweetly, "What did she do? I told you that she was stran-"

But before he could finish his sentence, Harry punched him in the nose, hard. He flew backwards, landing on the floor. Harry grabbed his cloak and dragged him back to his feet. "What did you do to her?" he demanded.

"W-what do you mean?" asked the merchant, lifting both hands to his face. His nose was bleeding freely.

"You said you saved her life, but she's covered with bruises and cuts. She's skeleton-thin and she won't talk, she won't even move. What did you do to her?" asked Harry, still shouting.

"I-I – all I did was a Memory Charm," the merchant stammered.

"And why she is covered with wounds?" Harry asked angrily, pulling the merchant's face even closer.

"Y-you have to understand, there aren't many girls left since the Battle. I-I'm a man, I've n-needs –and she is particularly pretty," stammered the merchant.

"Pervert," Harry spat, horrified. "And why doesn't she react or speak when she's spoken to?"

"I-it must be the Memory Charm," answered the merchant in an unconvincing tone. "I-I'm sure that if you go back to her, she will be more favorably disposed towards you with time."

Harry knew that a Memory Charm didn't have that effect on people, but he was worried about leaving Hermione alone for too long. So he let go of the man's cloak, dropping him back onto the floor. With a final angry glare, he left the room and hurried back to his own.

The merchant crawled to his bed and struggled to climb onto it. When he had finally managed to pull himself up to sit on the bed, he shot an evil look at the door Harry had just exited from.

"Fool," he said out loud, smirking. "You shouldn't have done that to me." He touched the blood under his nose. "You are going to pay for it, oh yes you are. You will come to the same bad end as the others."

He closed his eyes and cleaned his bleeding nose with his wand. 'Slave,' he thought, 'Speak, move, eat, drink. Do whatever he pleases, but when night falls, do what you know you must to do.' Then he opened his eyes and laughed evilly.

When Harry entered his room, he was surprised to see that Hermione was sitting on his bed, staring at the floor disinterestedly. Harry walked to the bed and sat next to her. She turned to face him, her cold, empty eyes filled with pain.

"Hermione," he said. Hermione gave no sign that she understood. He thought that her odd behaviour might be due to the Memory Charm - Lockhart didn't know who he was either, he remembered.

"Do you know your name?" he asked her. She shook her head. "What did that man call you?"

"Who? My owner?"

Harry felt a shiver run down his back. It was Hermione's voice, and yet it was different. It was as cold and empty as her eyes were. She sounded dead. He nodded, trying to look calm.

"He called me 'slave'," Hermione replied.

"But didn't he give you a proper name?"

Hermione shook her head again.

"I know what your name is," said Harry, smiling. "It's Hermione."

"How do you know?" she asked, looking him in the eye for the first time.

For a moment Harry thought he saw a flicker of life in her face.

"Because we were friends. We went to school together – do you know what a school is?" he added, seeing her quizzical look. She shook her head. He thought for a moment. "It's a place where children learn things."

"What did we learn?"

Harry stared at her, trying to figure out what was going on. He wasn't sure if the more she spoke happier he was, or if the happier he was, the more she wanted to speak. He couldn't tell if she was really interested in their conversation, or if she was just trying to please him.

"What did we learn?" she repeated, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"A lot of things," he replied. "Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, everything that would have been useful for our future and our careers. You and I worked together, too. We worked with Ron – do you remember Ron?" he asked hopefully.

She shook her head again.

"He was our best friend," Harry said miserably. She might not remember Ron, but Harry remembered too well.

"He was? Is he dead?" she asked. Harry nodded. "How?" she asked, lowering her voice.

Harry stood up quickly. He hadn't told anyone about what had happened during the last Battle. It hurt too much.

Hermione started to shake, and Harry realized that she thought she had made him angry, and she was frightened.

"I'm sorry," she said in an imploring tone of voice, "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to displease you." Then she threw herself at his feet.

Harry looked down at her, bemused. After a moment, he stooped and took her by her arms, drawing her gently to her feet. She was sobbing quietly.

"Hermione," Harry said, caressing her dirty hair, "You didn't displease me. It's just something I'm not ready to talk about, okay?" Hermione nodded and wiped the tears from her cheeks, still sniffling a little.

"Well, I think that you need to take a bath. How long has it been since you had one?" he asked, smiling.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't think I've ever taken a bath – what is a bath?"

Harry was startled by her question, but replied, "Well, you wash yourself with water and soap to the dirt off of your skin and your hair – do you want to take a bath, then?"

"Yes, can you show me how it works?" Hermione asked.

Harry flushed red. "N-no, I can't. But all you have to do is sit down in warm water. If you want I can get it ready for you," he stammered.

Hermione nodded, so he went into the bathroom to fill the tub. Hermione followed him, and watched Harry turn the water on.

"Oh, I almost forgot. There's no hot water, we'll need a bit of magic to heat it up," he said, returning to the bedroom to grab his wand.

"Magic?" asked Hermione curiously.

"You know what magic is, don't you?" asked Harry, fearing the answer. He didn't want to frighten her by doing magic if she didn't know what it was.

To his surprise and relief, Hermione nodded. "I know what magic is, but my owner said that only he could do magic."

Harry felt his anger rise once again, "He lied. This world is full of wizards and witches that can do magic. You can do magic yourself." He kept his eyes on the tub, watching the water rise.

Hermione looked like she wanted to ask something else, but she didn't have the chance because Harry had closed the tap and was muttering a charm to heat the water.

"Here you are," he said cheerfully, "You can take off that dirty cloak and then you can undr-" he stopped, shocked. Hermione had taken off her cloak and was standing in front of him, completely naked. He turned away quickly as soon as he recovered from the shock.

"S-sorry," he mumbled, "I-I didn't know that you – but didn't you wear anything else under the cloak?"

"No," she answered simply.

"And don't you have other clothes?"

"No. My owner threw them away."

"Okay, okay. I'll go look for something that you can wear. Take your bath in the meantime," he said hastily, passing by her with his eyes closed, feeling about for the door.

When he passed her, Hermione said, "Thank you." A second later, she added, "You didn't tell me your name, yet."

Harry realized that she was right; it must have slipped his mind, or else it hadn't really sunk in that she didn't remember who she was. "My name is Harry," he said. "Harry Potter."

"Well, thank you very much, Harry Potter," she said.

Harry left the bathroom and closed the door behind him, his heart beating furiously. He waited for his pulse to return to normal before heading for Tom's room. Maybe the innkeeper could lend him some clothes for Hermione to wear.


	4. Wiping Away the Dirt

Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Harry Potter. But I would really like to do.

A/N: Well, sorry if it took a little to update, but I've started my new Academic Year and, since I study in a city far from my house, all the next updates will depend on when I come back home. But don't worry, for this Christmas I've asked a wireless modem, so I will be able to connect everywhere. Just another thing, if there is anybody here who wanders why I'm not updating my other ff, well, lets just say that I can't contact my other beta-reader. I'm pretty sure that her pc is broken, anyway I really hope that she is going to send the chapter back soon, because I left the readers with a very evil cliffhanger. I'll stop here, hope that you'll enjoy this chapter.

To Magistera: Thank you very much for beta-reading this chapter and for your constructive comments.

**Wiping Away the Dirt**

"Clothes for women?" repeated Tom, his eyes wide.

Harry nodded again.

"Let me check the wardrobes in a couple of the rooms. Maybe I can find something that someone forgot here when the Battle started. Wait here, Mr. Potter. It will only take a minute," said Tom, disappearing up the stairs.

'When they all ran away,' Harry thought after Tom left. 'When the brave came and fought against Voldemort and the Death Eaters while the rest ran away and hid, fearing for their lives.'

"It's incredible," Tom said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"What?" Harry asked.

"It's incredible how many clothes I've found," Tom replied, nodding at the pile of clothes in his arms. He put them on the table and began to sort through them.

"Let me see, something that will work for a woman, right?" he asked as he dug through the pile of clothes, "What about this?"

Harry examined a knee-length dress, it was light blue and had thin straps on the top. It was really pretty, indeed, and it looked like it was almost new.

"Whoever left this must have spent a lot of time in the Muggle world, but everything else I have is for men," said Tom.

Harry nodded. "I think that this one will definitely work."

Tom smiled, "Very well, and what about this? And these?" he asked, passing Harry a pair of jeans, a shirt, a green jumper, and several other items of Muggle and wizard's clothes.

"Hmm, I think that's enough," Harry said from behind the stack of clothes in his arms. "Now, I reckon she'll need something like a – " he coughed, turning a little pink, "- a bra, and a – a pair of knickers."

Tom came up with a white bra and a pair of light green knickers, and put them on the top of Harry's pile.

"You know, Mr. Potter," said Tom, smiling toothlessly, "You should take some of these clothes for yourself, too. You always wear the same things, and they're all worn out."

Harry thought about it and realized that Tom was right. He picked up another pair of jeans, larger than the other pair, and a white shirt. Finally, he picked out three pairs of shoes: a pair of white tennis shoes for himself and a pair of very nice sandals for Hermione, as well as some trainers that looked like they'd fit herAfter thanking Tom, he turned to head back to his room.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Tom called after him when he was halfway up the stairs. Harry turned to look at him. "May I ask you who all these clothes are for?"

Harry smiled. "A friend," he answered simply, and continued up the stairs.

'She must be done with her bath,' he thought nervously, as he stood in front of the door to his room. He decided to knock. Hermione didn't answer.

"Hermione? Can I come in? I've found some clothes for you," Harry called, opening the door slowly without looking inside, in case she was still undressed.

"Yes, you can come in," came Hermione's voice from inside.

"What are you wearing?" he asked her cautiously, still avoiding looking into the room.

"I found a cloth near the bath. I thought it would be all right if I wore it," she said uncertainly.

Harry decided it was safe to enter. Hermione was sitting on his bed, with a towel wrapped around her body. Luckily it covered her from her breasts to her knees. Her long, bushy and now wet hair was dripping on Harry's bed.

"May I wear it?" asked Hermione, touching the towel with her hands.

Harry smiled. "Hermione, that's not clothing, it's just a towel."

"A towel?" she asked, bemused.

"Yes, people use it for drying themselves," he explained. "I brought you some real clothes, just put on whatever you prefer," he added, placing the clothes near her on the bed.

"Thank you," said Hermione in the same empty voice she'd used since he found her.

Harry smiled, "You're welcome. Are you hungry?" Hermione nodded. "What do you want to eat?" he asked. She shrugged her shoulders.

"I'll go and ask Tom if he can prepare something for you – oh it's almost 1 p.m.," he added after checking his watch. "I'll go and ask him for lunch, then. Go ahead and get dressed in the mean time." Hermione smiled, but it was a cold and distant smile. Harry forced himself to smile back as he left the room again.

When she found herself alone, Hermione looked at the clothes. She didn't know how to wear them, but she decided to try all the possible ways that she could put them on.

She let the towel fall and picked up the bra. It was too small for her shoulders and too uncomfortable for the bottom of her neck. She decided to try placing it on her breasts and closed it at the back. It fit her perfectly.

Then she put on the green knickers. They were a little bit big, but they weren't too bad.

Now she had a much more difficult choice to make: what to wear over the underthings. There were too many choices, and she wasn't used to having a choice. But as she looked through the pile of clothes, something caught her eye: a plain, light blue dress. She thought it looked very nice, and it seemed quite easy to wear. She picked it up and tried it. It seemed a little bit big for her, like the knickers, but it would do.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Her mouth fell open. She was used to seeing herself in the old, dirty cloak Harry had found her in. A tear slid down her cheek. She felt its warmth at the corner of her mouth, and touched a fingertip to it, bemused. She couldn't remember if she had ever cried before. He didn't let her cry. His voice in her head didn't let her cry.

'I must not cry,' she thought, but the words didn't have any effect on her tears. "I must not cry," she repeated out loud. "Tonight it will all be finished. He will come to the same end as the others. He will be just one of the many others who came before him."

But this time she didn't want to do it. She felt the desire to rebel much more strongly than she had with the others. This time she really wanted to shut the voice in her head up. She didn't know why, but she just knew that she couldn't survive if she killed that Harry Potter boy. Maybe it was because he was gentle with her. The first time that she could remember someone being gentle with her. The first time that someone seemed to really care for her. The first time that the person she was sold to hadn't just wanted to have fun with her body.

Or maybe it was because he said that he knew her. That he said he knew about her past, and all the things she couldn't remember. She would have screamed for joy, if only that voice in her head would go away. She was desperate to know something about herself, but she knew that she was too weak to fight the voice that was driving her crazy.

Hermione was jerked out of her thoughts by a knock at the door. "Hermione, are you ready? 'Cause lunch is ready," Harry called from the other side of the door.

Hermione pushed away her troubled thoughts and wiped away the tear. Spotting the sandals, she slipped them on. She felt a shiver run down her back as she moved. Her wet hair was soaking through her dress.

"Yes, I'm ready," she said as she fastened the sandals.

Harry entered. He had changed his clothes as well, putting on the jeans and shirt that he had got from Tom. When he looked at Hermione his mouth fell open. She had changed drastically while he was gone. She looked almost like the Hermione Harry used to know, except that she was thinner than Harry remembered her ever being and her skin was covered with bruises and injuries.

'She looks wonderful,' Harry thought. 'Or maybe it's just how different she looks from before. Even a house elf would look wonderful compared to the way she looked before. No, wait. It would have been pretty, but Hermione looks wonderful.' He couldn't stop staring at her, and he thought, 'Since when do I think that Hermione looks wonderful? She's always been wonderful, but why can't I stop staring at her? Maybe it's just because I'm happy to see that she's alive.'

Hermione came over to him and waved a hand in front of his face, "Are you ok, Harry Potter?" she asked, smiling.

Harry recovered from the pleasant shock. "Y-yes, I am. But why are you calling me Harry Potter?"

She was surprised. "Because it's your name, isn't it?"

"Actually it is, but you can call me Harry, just Harry – ok?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. Her hair had dripped over her entire back, and now she was shivering from the cold.

Harry saw her shiver and asked concernedly, "Are you ok? You're shaking."

"My back is all wet," she answered. "I'm just cold."

"Hmm, let me see what I can do," he said. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he stepped closer to her and muttered the same charm that she used to use when they came back from their trips to Hogsmeade in the winter. Her hair and her back dried quickly.

"Hmm," said Hermione, as the pleasant warm air that came from Harry's wand washed over her.

"Is it better?" asked Harry, running his hands over her hair and back to test whether they were still soaked.

Hermione nodded. Her bushy hair rubbed gently against Harry's cheek. He stopped moving his hands over her back and inhaled deeply.

"You smell good," he said.

"It's your soap that I used," she answered.

Harry realized he was very close to her, hugging her tightly. He had missed her so much, the way he was still missing Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna.

Hermione didn't hug him back, though; she just stared past his shoulder at the wall. She had never felt something like this. None the other men she had been close to had ever hugged her this way.

The hug was full of misery. Full of friendship. Full of love. She could feel all that and it hurt her badly. She wanted to hug him back. She wanted to push him away. But she couldn't do anything. The voice in her head kept her from doing any of the things she wanted to. So she just waited, hoping that the agony would be over soon.

Harry, on the other hand, never wanted to let her go. He had just found her and he felt like she had been missing for years, not just five months. He felt strange. He was sad in his happiness. Or maybe he was happy in his sadness. He couldn't really tell. But it was all perfect. Miserably perfect.

Hermione's stomach rumbled with hunger and Harry reluctantly let her go. He looked into her eyes for a moment and then blushed.

"Well, I reckon you're starving, aren't you?" he asked, and Hermione nodded. "Let's go downstairs, Tom's made eggs and a couple of steaks. I remember you liked that," he continued, opening the door.

"Hmm, did I? Ok, let's go, then," answered Hermione emotionlessly. She turned and walked toward the door, and Harry followed her out of the room. She could still feel the love that she'd felt from him when he hugged her. He gave off lots of love, but somehow also a lot of misery.

They went downstairs and sat down at a table set for two. On the table were a couple of bottles of Butterbeer, two plates of eggs and two steaks. In the middle of the table were some grapes on a little plate.

Harry watched Hermione eat ravenously, devouring everything in sight. "How long has it been since you've had a proper meal?" he asked, eyes wide.

"I don't know," she answered with her mouth full of eggs. "I don't think I ever have."

"That man is an awful bastard, that what he is," he said.

Hermione didn't answer. She knew she would end up back with the merchant again, and she wasn't stupid enough to insult him. Even if he wasn't listening to her right now, once she was in his power he would make her confess, and then he would punish her. But she agreed silently, in the safety of her mind.

Tom heard Harry's comment as he brought them more eggs. "Why?" he asked Harry in a whisper.

"Because he sells contraband, for one thing," Harry replied.

"Contraband? Like what?" the old man asked fearfully.

"He sold her to me," Harry answered, pointing at Hermione, "And he has a unicorn that he uses like a horse."

"Oh my God," said Tom, bringing one hand to his mouth in shock. "Luckily he'll only be here until tomorrow morning," he added, starting to take away their empty plates.

"But I was his only customer," said Harry, wondering why the man would leave so soon when he still had items to sell.

"What can I say? I won't stop him," Tom said, before heading back to the kitchen.

"Do you want to do something?" Harry asked Hermione.

"Do something?" Hermione replied, "Like what?"

"I don't know." Harry knew perfectly well that there was nothing to do in the Leaky Cauldron.

Hermione looked at him cautiously. "I'm very tired," she said, eating a grape. "I've walked for five days."

"Walked?" asked Harry shocked, "I thought you were on the cart."

Hermione shook her head, "He and the trunks ride on the cart."

Harry felt his anger boiling up for the tenth time that day. He reminded himself that it was no use getting angry again, especially when Hermione seemed so apathetic about it. "Do you want to sleep?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she answered uncertainly. "Do you want me to sleep?"

"It's not important what I want, Hermione, it's what you want," said Harry .

"I _would_ like to sleep," she answered bemusedly.

Harry nodded. "Let's go back upstairs, then," he said, smiling.

When they got back to room eleven, Harry locked the door behind them and turned to look at Hermione.

"Lie down and take all the rest you need," he said, pulling the curtains, and then sitting down on a chair next to the bed.

Hermione was shocked when he simply left her alone to sleep. He didn't seem to want to have sex. It was the first time that someone had brought her to a bed without wanting sex. That was the only reason people ever bought her. She did whatever they wanted because she didn't have a choice; that voice controlled her mind and kept her from resisting. But she hated lying in bed afterwards with the fat and sweaty men who had made her do such perverted things. She would have preferred to kill herself - but she couldn't do even that.

"Y-you don't want to have sex?" she asked, puzzled.

Harry almost fell off of the chair. Turning to face her, he tried to say 'no', but no sound came out of his mouth. He shook his head instead, staring at her.

Neither spoke for a while. They stared at each other without meeting each other's eyes. Then Harry managed to find his voice. "No," he said in a high-pitched voice.

"Why? That was the only thing the other men bought me for," she said.

Harry smiled weakly. "I bought you because I'm your friend. Forget about all that and just sleep, okay?"

"And you? Where will you be?" she asked, concerned. She didn't want to be alone.

"I'll sit right here," he said, patting the chair he was sitting on.

Hermione smiled and laid down on the bed. 'Good night,' he thought, but he didn't say anything for fear that his voice would break. In the darkness he couldn't see Hermione's tears, and she didn't see his.


	5. Under the Imperius Curse

Disclaimer: As usually I don't own Harry Potter.. Come on! I would be busy writing the 7th book right now..

A/N: Eh, eh.. What can I say? If I say that it's not my fault, are you gonna believe me? I really hope so, because it's not my fault. But actually it's not my beta-reader fault as well, she has been sick. And if you are going to complain because the beginning of this Author's note is the same of my other story, well, it's because both my beta-readers got sick. I really hope that it's not me.. Anyway, I've a surprise for you: both my fan-fictions updated the same day, aren't you happy? I really hope so! About this chapter, well, I like it because it has a cliff-hanger and, like everybody knows, I love cliffy ends. Hope you'll like it.

To Magistera: Thank you very much for beta-reading this chapter, you are really helpful. Thank you again!

**Under the Imperius Curse**

Hermione woke up around seven. When she opened her eyes, she saw that it was getting dark. Harry was still sitting in the chair at the end of the bed, but he was asleep. Hermione looked at him. He seemed so peaceful. Then glittering, golden letters on the cover of the book in his lap caught her eyes. She reached out an arm and grabbed the album. She pulled open the curtains on the window behind the bed. It was sunset. An orange light spilled over her back, illuminating the book. The cover read 'Harry J. Potter'.

She checked that Harry was still sleeping opened the book, and froze. A girl that looked just like her was waving at her from the first picture. She pulled the book closer, to see it better. It was her. But she looked so different. She seemed so much happier. She looked the other people in the picture. There was Harry. Standing next to her was a red haired man, who was holding her hand. She stared at them. She looked so happy, she was smiling. Harry and the other man looked happy too. It all seemed so perfect.

Hermione turned the pages and discovered plenty of pictures of Harry, the red haired boy and herself. Sometimes they were joined by a red haired girl who looked like the boy in the photos. She was usually holding hands with Harry. Hermione stared at the pictures for what seemed like hours. She felt a lump growing in her throat. She wanted to cry, but she didn't know why.

Just then, Harry woke up. He opened his eyes slowly feeling a twinge of pain at the base of his neck. He'd fallen asleep on the chair, looking at the album and watching over Hermione while she slept.

'Hermione,' he thought. 'It feels like she's so far away. Like it was all a dream. What if it was a dream ,like the ones I have every night. Not as horrible as that, but just as sad.' He felt fear rise up in him at that thought, and he quickly looked at the bed. Hermione was there. He sighed in relief.

The sunset lit her up from behind, turning her hair gold and copper. She was looking through his photo album. She had a dreamy expression on her face, but her eyes were still cold and emotionless. Harry didn't want to interrupt her. She looked beautiful in the orange light, almost the Hermione he remembered. But he couldn't stand the pain in his neck any longer, so he shifted, causing the chair to creak.

Hermione jerked her head up to look at Harry, with fear in her eyes. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, closing the album and placing it at the bottom of the bed, "I-I didn't mean to take it."

Harry smiled, "No problem. Besides, you're the one who gave it to me."

"Really?" she asked slowly.

Harry nodded and opened the album to a page showing himself, Hermione, Ron and Ginny. "You, and this boy," he said pointing at Ron, "And this girl," he said, indicating Ginny.

"And they are – dead?" Hermione whispered, trying to fix their faces in her mind forever.

Harry nodded. "Yes."

Hermione didn't answer. What could she say? Then her stomach rumbled again and Harry smiled.

"Are you hungry?"

Hermione nodded, lowering her eyes.

"Lets go downstairs and look for Tom, then," he said sitting up.

"What?" asked Hermione, surprised, "I can eat twice a day?"

Harry nodded again. "Of course you can. I have a cousin that can eat five times at day. Let's go."

When they arrived downstairs they found to their great displeasure that they weren't alone. At a small table on the other side of the room the merchant was having his dinner. Hermione was scared, and she didn't say a word throughout dinner. She just kept looking in the merchant's direction nervously. She ate fish and chips, and she drank a couple of Butterbeers. She liked Butterbeer a lot, she realized.

"Hermione, is everything alright?" asked Harry, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Yes," she answered, "Yes, it is. I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" asked Harry, bemused.

"I don't know, I'm just sorry," she answered, smiling.

The merchant, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about the two of them and ate his dinner in silence. But when Harry and Hermione got up and headed for the stairs, he finally seemed to become aware of their presence.

"Please, my dear friend, will you do me the honor of sitting down and having a drink with me?" he said, stretching out a hand in Harry's direction.

Harry stopped, staring at the arm that was blocking his way, "No, thank you, we have to go," he said shortly.

"You have to go?" he asked maliciously. "Haven't you two already had-"

Harry glared at him. "You are a perverted bastard," he said, touching the wand in his pocket.

The merchant smiled. "No more than anyone else. Come on, sit down, I've got a very good whisky," he urged, pulling a bottle of whisky from his pocket and placing a hand on Harry's arm.

Harry freed himself roughly. "Don't you dare touch me again."

But the merchant wasn't really listening to him. He was mentally ordering Hermione, 'Make him sit down.'

Hermione panicked, "Harry," she found herself saying against her will, "Harry, please sit down. I know his whisky, it's divine," she said urgently.

Harry looked at her curiously, but Hermione was already sitting down.

Reluctantly, Harry took a seat next to Hermione. The merchant smiled at Harry, opening the whisky and pouring it into a couple of glasses.

"Here you are," said the merchant to Harry in a sugary tone. Then he turned to look at Hermione. She looked ten times better than she had that morning. When he faced Harry again, he was surprised to see that he had already emptied the glass. 'That man is a fool,' he thought, as he poured more whisky into Harry's glass. Then he turned back to Hermione, 'Stretch your hand under the table,' he ordered her silently.

Hermione wanted to scream at Harry not to drink. She didn't want to stretch her arm under the table like she was doing. But there was nothing she could do but obey. She felt a heavy, cold blade drop into her hand.

'Put that away,' the merchant ordered. 'I drugged the whisky. He will sleep deeply, and you will do what you have to do. Do you understand?'

Hermione nodded imperceptibly. She would rather have killed herself with the dagger, but she slipped it into her dress.

The merchant kept pouring whisky into Harry's glass, and he looked drunker with every passing minute. Hermione wanted to tell him not to drink, but she couldn't break free from the merchant's control. A minute later, Harry's elbows slipped from the table and the glass fell, shattering on the floor.

"Hey, hey," said the merchant cheerily, "I think you should go upstairs and sleep it off. You're not much of a drinker, are you?"

"Yes, I am," Harry slurred.

The merchant smiled. "Let's get you to your room, friend," he said, pulling Harry to his feet.

"I'll bring him to his room," said Hermione fiercely, feeling suddenly protective.

The merchant glared at her. 'How dare you?' he shouted in her mind.

Hermione frowned, feeling cowed. "B-but maybe you can help me, I don't know if I'll be able-"

"Let's go," said the merchant, cutting her off. Putting a an arm around Harry's waist, he pulled him up the stairs. Harry, in the mean time, was talking nonsense and trying to sing the Hogwarts school song. He couldn't get past the second line, and had to keep starting over. Hermione was impressed by how well he withstood the drug that should have sent him straight to sleep after the first glass.

When they reached Harry's room, the merchant opened it with 'Alohomora' and threw Harry on the bed. Then he unbuttoned Harry's shirt and turned to Hermione.

"You know what to do," he whispered, caressing her cheek.

Hermione shivered, but didn't answer. She just stood still under his touch. The merchant glared at her, but he didn't really care about her defiance, since he knew that she couldn't disobey his orders. So he turned and headed for the door, closing it behind himself.

Hermione looked at Harry for a long time while he snored loudly on the bed. She knew what she had to do, that was true, but she didn't want to do it. She pulled out the dagger and took a step towards him. His chest was marked by several scars. There was a particularly long one near his heart. The funny thing was that it was bolt-shaped, like the one that on his forehead. A ray of moon filtered through the curtains and fell across his face.

Hermione had a sudden urge to run away. But she wasn't allow to do that. She had to kill him, that boy who she thought she had loved deeply, even though she didn't remember him now. She was on her feet, near the bed. The moonlight illuminated her face. She held the dagger up, ready to stab it into Harry's chest.

A minute passed. Two minutes. Ten. A quarter of hour. Her hand started to tremble.

'I'm not going to do that,' she said to herself. "I'm not going to do that," she repeated out loud. Harry didn't stir. She looked at the raised dagger, turned it so she could examine the point. Her orders echoed in her head. She knew what she had to do.

The blade sparkled in the moonlight as she brought the knife down.


	6. Revenge

Disclaimer: Naturally I don't own Harry Potter.

A/N: It took me quite a lot, didn't it? My beta admitted that she was a little bit slow this time, but she said that she will be faster next times. Anyways, since "Putting "review responses" within story chapters is now unnecessary and more importantly, not allowed." I got rid of all the things that I wrote in the past chapters, I'll answer you with the reply link if you wish me to do. Oh, well, I really hope that you'll like this chapter – hem, there's an attempt of rape, so if you don't want to read something like that just don't read it (but it's just an attempt). Anyway enjoy it!

To Magistera: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter.

**Revenge**

Harry's hand shot towards her wrist and blocked her arm before the blade could enter her stomach, right under her breasts. The dagger fell to the floor with a 'clung'.

"I thought you were aiming for me," he said, still holding onto her wrist. Hermione fell to her knees. _He was just acting, he wasn't sleeping. _She burst into tears of joy. She had fought the voice. She was free.

Harry knelt next to her and looked into her eyes, brown and filled with tears and warmth. The only thing that Harry could think looking into those eyes was that this was the Hermione he remembered. And that the merchant was going to pay for all the things he'd done to her.

"I fought it," said Hermione, smiling and crying at the same time. She threw her arms around Harry's neck and dampened his shirt with her tears.

Harry caressed her hair gently. "Yes," he whispered in her ear. "You fought it. You were very strong, exactly like the Hermione I used to know."

"I envy you," she said, wiping away the tears.

"Why?" asked Harry, a bit surprised.

"Because you know me better than I do. You remember our past. And you remember all the people that you loved."

Harry's expression darkened. He got up and walked to the window. "And I envy you, because you cannot remember the last minutes of all your friends' lives," he said bitterly.

"Don't say that," she said forcefully, getting to her feet. "I would give my life for a glimpse of my past. Living without your memory is like living with no identity."

Harry turned towards her. "Maybe you're right," he said thoughtfully, "You always have been smarter than me." Hermione smiled, which seemed to bring him back to reality. "What were you trying to do?" he asked Hermione seriously.

Hermione shivered. "I was ordered to kill you and steal anything worth taking. I did it often." She added quickly, "But I didn't want to, he forced me." Her voice shook.

"Don't worry, I know it's not your fault. He probably had you under the Imperius Curse," Harry said.

"The Imperius Curse?"

"It's a powerful curse used to control people. It's highly illegal. That coward used you for his crimes. Well, he won't do that anymore," he said resolutely.

"What are you going to do?" asked Hermione, scanning his face for clues.

"I have a plan, but I need your help," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and looking her in the eyes again.

"I'll do whatever I can to make him pay," said Hermione angrily.

Harry smiled. "Good, because you play a big part in the plan. Listen," he continued, sitting down on his bed. Hermione copied him. "You've got to go back to his room and act like you succeeded. Like you've just killed me. Hmm, you'll need to bring him some valuables, to prove you did it. I've still got some Galleons," he said as he got up and moved towards the wardrobe, "And you'll have to act like you're still under the Imperius Curse."

Hermione nodded to show she understood.

"Then, we'll have to wait till he falls asleep. I'll come in and we shouldn't have any trouble getting his wand and Stupefying him. We'll tie him up and send him by Floo to the Ministry of Magic." Harry spotted a quizzical look on Hermione's face.

"Do you understand everything?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded. "Everything but the last three words."

"Floo and Ministry of Magic?"

Hermione nodded again.

Harry smiled, "The Floo Network is a way to travel. All you need is some Floo Powder and a fireplace that's connected to the Network. You throw the powder into the fireplace, say the name of the place you want to go and step in. The Ministry of Magic is the government of the British Wizarding World. We used to work there. Lately they've lost a lot of their power, but they'll help us. They will send him to Azkaban – um, Azkaban is a prison."

Hermione was nodding again in understanding.

Harry sighed. "Okay, are you ready? He'll probably get suspicious if you don't turn up soon."

"Yes, he surely will. I'm ready," she answered, standing up.

"Okay, then. Take these," he said, dropping all of his remaining money into her hands. "And remember to act exactly as if you were still under the curse."

She nodded once again and started for the door.

"Hermione," Harry called after her. She turned to face him. "I won't let anything bad happen to you." He thought for a moment, then added, "Again."

"I know," she answered, and smiled before she walked out the door. When the door closed behind her, she leaned against the wall. She knew that something bad was coming, whatever Harry said. She hadn't told him that her master usually wanted to have some 'fun' with her when she came back from her murders. She didn't want to ruin Harry's plan. She was ready to bear it one more time to thank Harry for everything he'd done for her. She looked up and saw that she'd arrived at room five without noticing the hallway in between. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

When she entered the room, the merchant was filling his trunks with all the knick-knacks that had been scattered around the chamber before. He looked up at her. "Did you do it?" She nodded coolly. "Why the hell did it take you so long? What went wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered, coming nearer to the bed.

The merchant glared at her for a moment, but then he smiled. "Very well," he said. "Let me see the loot." Hermione gave him the Galleons. "Oh, now, that boy was rich. Unfortunately he was also stupid," he said, laughing.

Hermione didn't move. "Well? Have you lose your tongue?" he asked her roughly.

"No," Hermione answered in an impudent tone.

He stood up quickly and slapped her, hard. She fell backwards, landing on the bed. Her dress rode up above her knees and when she moved to try to protect herself from another blow, it rode up even further. Now her green knickers were peeking out below the hem. One of the straps of the dress fell down to her arm, exposing part of one breast. She glared at him. Her left cheek was pink from the slap, but both were red with anger, and her chest was heaving.

The merchant stared at her. 'She is so beautiful,' he thought. He had had her when she was dirty and only a tenth as pretty. Looking at her now, clean, dressed well, and glowing with anger, he felt his desire rise up suddenly. He wanted to possess her. He moved to the foot of the bed and threw himself upon her. When she tried to move away, he pinned her hips with his legs and her hands with his, smiling evilly.

"Let me go," Hermione demanded, glaring at him and trying to kick.

The merchant tutted. "Do you really think that I will? You are in my power. Keep your mouth shut unless I tell you otherwise, do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, trying to hold back her tears.

"Very good, and now-" he said, capturing both her hands in one of his so that he could use the other to fondle her breasts.

Hermione shivered. It was horrible. The other times she hadn't had a choice, but now she did and she still had to endure it. Harry had said to wait until he was sleeping, but he would have what we wanted before he fell asleep.

Suddenly she thought that Harry might see what was happening somehow. How else would he know when the merchant was sleeping? Surely he wouldn't allow the merchant to go through with it. But maybe he meant for Hermione to inform him. She tried to make herself believe that Harry would come.

She was snapped out of her thoughts when the merchant's filthy hand trailed slowly up her leg and brushed her knickers. She felt a warm tear run down her cheek. She closed her eyes, unable to face him while he humiliated her.

Then she heard a 'pop'. Suddenly someone grabbed the merchant by his robes and hurled him to the floor. Hermione stared at her rescuer. Harry was pointing his wand at the merchant, who lay on the floor.

Harry looked back at her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Hermione nodded and smiled. "What are you doing here? I thought you were going to wait until he was asleep?"

"I'm saving you. I was getting bored with waiting, so I decided to come join the party. Plus I realized that I wouldn't have known when he would have been sleeping," said Harry, blinking.

The merchant swore several times and then gave Harry an evil look. "You should be dead," he said, glaring at Harry and then Hermione.

"You should be dead," Harry replied harshly. "Rape, Unforgivable Curses, slavery. You will rot in Azkaban."

The merchant gritted his teeth. "Tell me why you are still alive."

"Hermione broke the Imperius Curse. She is a powerful witch."

The merchant glared at Hermione again, and she smiled back fiercely. "But I filled your whisky with a sleeping potion. You should be sleeping right now," he said with a grimace.

"I'm not a fool," said Harry matter-of-factly. "You were too busy giving Hermione mental orders to notice that I didn't drink anything. I don't like whisky, and I doubt the plant downstairs liked it either," said Harry.

"Very clever, boy. You should be an Auror," the merchant said snidely.

"I am an Auror." The merchant seemed impressed. " Hermione's one, as well. You're going to the Ministry of Magic now, and you'll finish your days in Azkaban." Harry muttered a couple of spells, making cords appear out of nowhere, wrapping around the merchant like snakes. He levitated him over to the fireplace and turned towards Hermione. "Wait here. I'll be back in an hour, max."

Hermione nodded.

"The Ministry of Magic," said Harry, holding onto the merchant. To Hermione's great surprise, in a second they had vanished into green flames.


	7. At the Ministry of Magic

Disclaimer: No, Harry Potter is not mine…

A/N: Long time not updating, don't you think? Well, never mind that. I'm so happy to update this story, I like it a lot. Just one thing about the chapter: this is a sort of turning point into the story, but you have to pay attention, not all the things are what they look like, you'll know what I mean in the later chapters. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

To Magistera: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter. Lol.

**At the Ministry of Magic**

Harry stumbled as he and the merchant tumbled out of the fireplace of the Aurors' headquarters in the Ministry of Magic'. Harry pulled the man out of the fireplace roughly. Harry dragged the man along as they crossed the building to Fudge's office.

Cornelius Fudge was, once again, the Minister of Magic. Rufus Scrimgeour had died that May, killed by Bellatrix Lestrange. During the Last Battle, Fudge took himself to the only place where he thought he would be safe: he took refuge in his office in the Ministry of Magic. It was five months before he came out of his shelter. By then, only dozen or so people still worked there, and the Ministry wasn't very important anymore.

Harry was furious, and it made him walk through the halls faster. He turned down a small corridor, and a door opened on his left. A short, young wizard with mousy brown hair appeared behind it. He looked at Harry with great surprise.

"Harry?" he said in a high voice. "Harry, what are you doing here –who is he?" he asked, noticing at last the tied-up man standing in front of Harry.

"I need to see Fudge, Dennis. Is he in his office?"

Dennis Creevey nodded, running behind Harry and the merchant as Harry brushed past him into the room.

"Who is he?" he asked again.

"Someone that an Auror like you should have brought in ages ago," Harry answered sharply.

Dennis was hurt. "I'm here alone, I have to do everything by myself. You know how many Aurors there are left in England? Two. You and I. And you're always away and I-"

"Three."

"Three what?" asked Dennis, puzzled.

"There are three Aurors in England," said Harry calmly, without stopping or slowing down.

"Yeah?" Dennis said skeptically. "And who's the third? Fudge?"

Harry ignored his sarcasm. "No. Hermione."

Dennis sighed heavily. "I knew this was coming sooner or later. You know, Harry, sometimes I think that Colin is still alive too. But you have to face the truth: Hermione's dead. She fought bravely against You-Know-Who. You cannot-"

"She is not dead. This man," he said, stopping and giving Dennis a better look at the merchant's face. "This man is a slave trader. And Hermione was his slave. She is isn't herself, but she's not dead."

"And where is she?" Dennis asked, suddenly excited.

"At the Leaky Cauldron. You can Apparate there if you don't believe me," said Harry, starting to walk again, pulling the merchant along.

"I believe you," said Dennis quickly, following them. "But how did she escape from whatever it was that destroyed everything?"

Harry looked down at him. He really didn't know. "I don't know. Maybe Fudge with all his wise will be able to help me," he said sarcastically.

"No, Harry," said Dennis agitatedly, as if just remembering. "Fudge doesn't want to see anybody."

"I don't care," said Harry. "He never wants to see anybody, ever since the Last Battle. Is he in his office?"

Dennis nodded. They walked in silence after that, until they came to Fudge's office.

"I don't think I'll come in," said Dennis when they stood in front of the closed door that read 'Minister of Magic' in golden letters. Harry nodded, sighing, then opened the door without knocking on it.

Fudge jerked upright behind his desk when Harry burst in. His office was dusty, empty of all the papers that filled it when he controlled the magical community of England.

"H-Harry," he stammered when Harry walked in his office. "What are you doing here?"

"I've something for you," Harry replied, throwing the merchant to the floor next to him.

"Who is he?" asked Fudge, shivering in the face of Harry's obvious anger.

"A slave trader," answered Harry, sitting down in a chair in front of Fudge's desk.

"Well, Harry, there are no laws against slavery," said Fudge nervously.

The merchant nodded hopeful agreement.

Harry still thought it was horrifying that slavery was legal, but he was expecting Fudge to say that. He was ready to take another tack. "He is a rapist," he said.

"Ah, that's horrible," said Fudge without really believing it. "But you should have brought him to the Muggle – how do they call it? Polish?"

"Police," Harry corrected him. Fudge nodded, smiling foolishly. Harry would have loved to punch him in the nose, hard. Sending a demonstrably criminal wizard into a Police Station full of Muggles? Fudge was really going crazy.

"He used an Unforgivable Curse on a woman," he said, still keeping his voice calm.

"Oh, but you should have told me earlier," Fudge said immediately. He took out his wand, pointed it at his throat, and muttered 'Sonorus'.

"Dennis Creevey," he called with his magically amplified voice, "Come into my office right now."

Dennis ran into Fudge's office, breathing quickly.

Fudge said 'Quietus', still pointing the wand at his throat. His voice was back to normal when he spoke to Dennis. "Dennis, take this rubbish to the tenth floor and tie him tight, do you understand?"

Dennis nodded and levitated the merchant out of the room.

"The tenth floor?" asked Harry when they were left alone. "But you'll take him to Azkaban later, right?"

Fudge sighed heavily. "Harry, how long have you been staying at the Leaky Cauldron? How long has it been since you heard any news?"

Harry shrugged. Strange questions from someone that hadn't placed a foot out of his office for five months, he thought. At least he went into Diagon Alley once in a while.

"Azkaban was swept off the face of the Earth after the Battle."

Harry's eyes opened wide. Azkaban destroyed? "How?" he asked. 'Stupid question,' he thought a second later.

"It was destroyed by the wave of power that came from your wands as you and You-Know-Who fought. But don't worry, we have built solid cells in the tenth floor," said Fudge, smiling reassuringly.

Harry realized that Fudge couldn't possibly understand. It wasn't that he liked Azkaban, and he was happy that the Dementors were gone forever, but he really wanted to see the merchant shut away there.

"Where did you find him?" asked Fudge, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"At the Leaky Cauldron," Harry replied. "He sold me the woman he used the Unforgivable Curse on."

"Really? D-did he kill her?" stammered Fudge.

Harry shook his head. "He used the Imperius Curse."

Fudge sighed in relief, "Maybe she should go to St. Mungo's. She must be in shock."

"She's fine. What she needs is rest and someone to take care of her. He also did a Memory Charm on her."

"If he did a Memory Charm on her, maybe she doesn't remember who she is-"

"Maybe? Of course she doesn't remember her identity," Harry said bitterly.

"Yes, yes of course. But I was going to tell you that if you bring her here, maybe we can find her in our records and see if she-"

"I know who she is," Harry interrupted.

"Really?" asked Fudge.

Harry nodded. "It's my friend Hermione."

"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" asked Fudge, stunned. "The Auror?"

Harry nodded again.

"But how did she - ? I mean, how could she have survived - ?"

"I don't know, but I want to find out. What if she wasn't the only one that survived? We don't even know who might be still alive," said Harry seriously. "I thought that you might be able to help me."

"Really? Why me?" asked Fudge nervously.

"Because you are a bigwig here," said Harry, smiling.

"Oh Harry, don't try to fool an old man like me. I know that you're still angry with me for not going to help in the Battle-"

"-and for having closed the doors of the Ministry of Magic in the faces of all the wizards and witches that came seeking refuge."

Fudge sighed. "I've told you so many times that I'm sorry. How could I have known that the wave of power would destroy everything?"

Harry just nodded coolly. He couldn't forgive Fudge, not yet.

"What does she think?"

"What should she think? She doesn't remember a thing before five months ago."

Fudge nodded nervously, fidgeting. Several minutes passed in silence. After what seemed ages Harry sighed heavily and stood up.

"Good bye, Fudge," he said, turning to open the door.

"Harry," Fudge called after him, "Why don't you come back and work here? You and Hermione? I'm sure she wants to come back to work. She loved working here," he finished eagerly.

"She doesn't even know who she is, how could she knows what she wants to do – and how can you know that?" said Harry bitterly.

"But you do want to come back to work," said Fudge matter-of-factly.

"How do you know? Anyway, I need some more time to myself, and I don't think that you really need me." He turned back to the door and was ready to leave when he had an idea.

"I'll come back to work," he said, facing Fudge again, "If you tell me how to treat a Memory Charm."

Fudge's expression darkened. "Harry, you are an Auror. You know better than I do that there is no treatment for Memory Charms."

"But there must be something that I can do for her," protested Harry.

"Only time, or maybe a while spent in St. Mungo's can help her."

Harry sighed. That was exactly the answer he had expected, but he didn't want to give up his hopes.

"Or maybe you can torture her mind until you'll drive her crazy," said Fudge gloomily.

Harry found Fudge more annoying than ever.

"Thank you very much for your inestimable help," he said sarcastically. Without another word, he exited Fudge's office and headed back to the Auror's Headquarters.

He knocked on the door that read 'Dennis Creevey' in glittering letters. Without waiting for an answer, he walked in. Dennis was reading a book, his feet propped up on the desk. When he saw Harry he jumped to his feet.

"I'm leaving," Harry said.

"Leaving? For where?" asked Dennis.

"The Leaky Cauldron," said Harry.

Dennis sighed. "There's no hope that you're going to come back to work, is there?"

Harry shook his head. "No. I told Fudge that I need some more time to myself. I also told him that I would come back to work if he told me how to treat Memory Charms. But he wasn't able to do that, so I'm leaving." Harry laughed. "Anyway, I wasn't very fair to him. There is no cure for Memory Charms."

Dennis looked at him. "Well, there must be a treatment."

Harry glanced up sharply. "What? Are you kidding me?" he asked.

"Well, I don't know how it works, but do you remember that Hufflepuff girl? What was her name? – Laura Madley, I think?" asked Dennis.

Harry nodded. He remembered her pretty well. She had been an Auror, but she died in the Last Battle.

"Well, she was cured of a Memory Charm just last year," said Dennis matter-of-factly.

"How?" asked Harry.

"I can't remember how they did it, but when she came back to work, she was normal. She remembered everything and her mind was completely unhurt."

"Dennis, you have to try and remember how that cure works," said Harry seriously.

"And if I tell you, you'll come back to work?" asked Dennis hopefully.

Harry glared at him. "Do you think that this is the time for things like that?"

Dennis sighed. "You're right. Wait here a moment I'll go and search for her file. Dennis Disapparated, and Harry took a look at the book he was reading. It was Gilderoy Lockhart's 'Magical Me'. He must have had loads of spare time.

When Dennis Apparated back into the room next to Harry, he was holding a yellow folder in his hand.

"Let me see," he said, opening the folder, "Here it says 'Laura Madley, Auror, long brown hair,' etc., 'She received a Medal of Bravery,' etc. etc., oh, here we are." Dennis read out loud, "'Auror Madly has been under a Memory Charm for the three months. She is the only documented case of a person being cured of this spell. St. Mungo's have no explanation for the cure. Her father, an eccentric wizard formerly of the Obliviators, thought that traveling to all of the places she used to frequent would help her. It is not known for certain if that was the cause of her recovery, but when she returned from her trip, she remembered everything. Checks by Healers in St. Mungo's found her mind to be back to normality and her brain undamaged.'"

Dennis raised his eyes from the file and met Harry's gaze. Harry was smiling dreamily.

"Harry?" asked Dennis uncertainly. "I don't know if this story is reliable. I mean if it was so easy, why hasn't anyone except Laura Madley ever recovered from a Memory Charm? I mean, the Healers aren't stupid and-"

"Dennis." Harry cut him off. "I won't send her to St. Mungo's. The Healers aren't stupid, but I don't think that Hermione needs their cures. I think that I'm going to take her with me on a journey."

"A journey?" asked Dennis. "Where are you going?"

Harry shrugged. "Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, the ground where we fought the Last Battle, the Burrow."

"Three places out of the four you've mentioned don't exist anymore," Dennis pointed out.

"I don't care," said Harry.

"Why don't you bring her here?"

Harry thought about that option for a second. "As a last resort," he said finally. "I don't want Fudge to tell her to come back to work. She doesn't need that."

Dennis nodded. "Have a nice trip, then."

"Thank you," said Harry "And, Dennis?"

"Yeah?"

"You shouldn't read that rubbish," Harry said, nodding towards the copy of 'Magical Me' and smiling.

Dennis blushed, but Harry didn't see it, because he had already Disapparated.


	8. The Leaving

Disclaimer: Naturally everything you recognize is not mine.

A/N: So, here I am, with another chapter. How long did this take me? Oh, less than a month, that was actually good. Anyway, there might be a little delay for the next chapter, because I'm changing beta-reader, but I promise to work hard for finding another one soon. Anyway, from this very chapter starts the second part of the story. Something like the 'quest for Hermione's memory'. I hope you'll like it. Thank you for reading. TTFN

To Magistera: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter, and I'm so sad that it will be the last one.

**The Leaving**

When Harry Apparated next to Hermione in the Leaky Cauldron, she let out a small shriek.

"Harry!" she said, as she turned to him, "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," he said, smiling.

Hermione nodded, accepting the apology immediately. "Is he in that prison?" she asked anxiously.

Harry shook his head. "No, but he is under strict guard. He won't do anything to you ever again," he said, hugging her.

"Thank you," she answered, hugging him back.

"Here you are, Hermione dear," said Tom, entering the room with a tray full of toast and a cup of tea. "Oh, Mr. Potter, you are back."

Harry smiled at Tom, acknowledging the greeting. "Are you still hungry?" he asked Hermione in disbelief.

"Yes, why?" she asked, flushing red as she bit into a piece of toast.

"What happened to that evil man? Hermione told me everything. It's terrible," Tom asked, seeming sincerely concerned.

"He is at the Ministry of Magic," answered Harry.

"They should send him to Azkaban," Tom said harshly.

"Azkaban doesn't exist anymore," answered Harry quietly. "And here's something else – I think we should destroy his belongings. Some of them must be dangerous. And we should also free the unicorn."

Without waiting for an answer from Hermione or Tom, Harry knelt down and opened the trunk nearest him, piling the contents on the floor.

"Can I help you?" asked Hermione sweetly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Of course," answered Harry.

"Well, I think that I will go downstairs and free the unicorn in the meantime," said Tom. "If you need me, just call, all right?"

Both Harry and Hermione nodded and smiled as Tom exited the room.

The contents of the trunk were horrifying. There were skulls of all sizes, strange and foul-smelling potions, locks of hair (some of them a familiar red), nails, fangs, poisons, etc. The other trunk held little different, except for a little wooden box. Harry pulled it out of the trunk, surprised by its unexpected weight. He opened it and saw that it was full of Galleons and jewels.

"He made me steal all those things from the men I was sold to, after I killed them," said Hermione to Harry, who nodded.

"We have to think about the use we can make of these Galleons," said Harry. "I reckon you can have them, Hermione."

"I don't want them," said Hermione firmly. Harry looked at her with surprise. "They are tainted with blood," she whispered.

Harry looked at her intently. "Hermione, you are right, but you have nothing with you and you will need some money. It could be useful."

Hermione looked at Harry and then glanced at the Galleons. "Okay, then. But why don't you keep them for me? I don't know how to use them, anyway."

Harry nodded and closed the box, putting it on the bed. Then he stood up. "I think that we can send all of this stuff to the Ministry of Magic and they-"

"Wait," said Hermione, rummaging in the bottom of the second trunk. "There's something else here." Her hand emerged with a handful of little wooden sticks. "Look Harry, these things look like that wooden stick of yours," she said, showing him.

"Those are wands, Hermione," Harry said after a moment spent staring at them. There were wands of all sizes and colors: long, short, broken, scratched, old, new.

Suddenly, a bright light and a strong wind enveloped Hermione. Scared, she dropped the wands.

"Hermione," Harry cried, "Your wand!"

"What?" she asked, bemused.

"You must have just touched your wand, Hermione," said Harry, kneeling on the floor again and searching through the wands.

"My wand?" asked Hermione. "I had a wand?"

"You still have a wand," said Harry, picking up a pair of wands. "Try this one."

He placed a long cherry wand in Hermione's hand. Nothing happened.

"No," said Harry. "Try this one."

He passed her another wand. Nothing happened again.

Harry snorted. "And this?" he said, giving Hermione a third wand. Still nothing happened.

Harry looked the rest of the wands, trying to remember what Hermione's wand looked like.

"What about this?" asked Hermione, picking up a vine-wood wand. The same light and wind enveloped her again.

Harry jumped to his feet. "How did you know?" he asked her in disbelief.

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know."

"Did you remember that that was your wand?"

Hermione thought for a moment, "No, I just thought that it would be nice if were. I don't know why, though."

Harry nodded. "Hermione, would you like to recover your memory?" he asked her, looking into her eyes and putting his hands on her shoulders.

"More than anything," she answered seriously.

"I was sure you would," said Harry, smiling. "And I'm very happy because I found a cure for the Memory Charm."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Hermione incredulously.

"No," said Harry.

"But, Tom told me there is no treatment for Memory Charms," said Hermione.

"That was what I thought, too. But then I found out about someone who has recovered from a Memory Charm," said Harry.

"Really? Who?"

"A girl, younger than you," said Harry.

"Well, we can go and find her and she-"

"Hermione she is dead."

"What? Dead?"

Harry nodded. "She died in the Last Battle."

"The Last Battle?" asked Hermione uncomprehendingly, "But if she is dead, then how can you cure me?"

Harry smiled. "I know how she recovered from the Charm. I read it in her file."

"Her file?"

"She was an Auror. At the Ministry of Magic they have files on everybody and-"

"On everybody? Is mine there, too?"

"Yes, but-"

"I want to read it," said Hermione.

Harry was shocked. He hadn't thought about letting Hermione read her own file. She wouldn't have remembered but she would have known at last. But he didn't want her to read it, although he wasn't sure why.

"Hermione, I don't think that's a good idea," he said.

"Why?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Well, because I think that you should start the treatment right now. We don't have time to go to the Ministry of Magic just to read your file," he replied.

Hermione looked at him and sighed. "You're right. What do I have to do?"

"Well, the girl who recovered from the charm went with her father to all the places she used to hang around before the Memory Charm. When she got back from her trip, she remembered everything," said Harry.

"She remembered everything?" she repeated hopefully.

Harry nodded. "We can do the same thing, if you want, we can go-"

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. "Of course I want to, Harry." She let go of him slowly. "When are we leaving?"

"Whenever you want, there's nothing we have to do here," said Harry, smiling.

"Can we leave today?"

That was even better than Harry had hoped. "Of course," he said.

"And where are we going?" asked Hermione excitedly.

"All the places that you used to know," Harry replied.

"And these places have names?" asked Hermione jokingly.

"Yes, of course. We'll go to Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, the Burrow and the field where we fought the Last Battle."

Hermione looked at him in horror as he named their last destination. "There won't be corpses, will there?" she whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No, don't worry. The Ministry of Magic sent people to clean up the place and bury the dead."

"What? Why didn't they find me?" she asked, slightly bemused.

"Because they went there a week after the Battle. The merchant said that he found you three days after it ended. So when the Ministry wizards came, you were already gone," said Harry.

Hermione just nodded. "So are we leaving?" she asked.

"Yes we are. Take all your things with you," said Harry, heading towards the door.

"Done," said Hermione, holding her wand tight.

Harry grinned. "Well, I'm sure that your handbag won't be too heavy at least."

"Indeed."

"You should take some of the clothes that I managed to find. I mean, we're going north and it will be colder there than here."

"That's not a bad idea," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Well, let's go to my room," said Harry, opening the door, "I have to pack, too."

They walked side by side to Harry's room. When they entered, Hermione picked up the clothes that were still lying on the chair and started to choose the ones that she liked most. Harry went to the wardrobe and levitated his things to the bed.

They both decided to wear jeans and t-shirts for their trip. Hermione went into the bathroom to change out of her dress, and Harry called Tom for some help in packing.

"You are leaving?" asked Tom in disbelief.

Harry nodded.

"And where do you think you will go?"

"We're going to all the places that meant something to Hermione."

Tom nodded. "I see. Well, what did you need me for?"

"Do you have something that we can use for Hermione's things, like a back pack?"

"Just let me check the other rooms," said Tom, smiling toothlessly.

Tom found a couple of black charmed back packs that always seemed empty no matter how much was put into them. Harry threw everything he owned and Hermione's money inside his and put Hermione's wand and some of the clothes that she had chosen in hers.

Hermione came out of the bathroom, wearing her jeans, a black t-shirt and a pair of trainers.

"Are you ready?" Harry asked her.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, where am I supposed to put this?" she asked, holding up the folded dress.

"In here," said Harry, pointing at her back pack.

Hermione put the dress inside and closed it. Then she picked it up and, looking at Harry, threw it over her shoulders.

"I think that we're ready to leave," he said, smiling.

Hermione smiled back. "Yes."

Tom looked at them and realized that he was going to lose his best customer. He was happy, though, that Harry had finally found the strength to face the world again. And he was glad that Miss Granger was with him.

He headed for the hall downstairs and Harry and Hermione followed him. When they reached the entrance, he looked out at the starry sky and frowned at the cold air.

"Are you sure you don't want to wait till tomorrow morning to leave?" he asked.

Harry and Hermione looked into each other's eyes. "We're sure," said Harry.

Tom nodded.

Hermione stepped towards him and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Thank you, Tom," she said, smiling.

"Y-you are welcome," Tom stammered.

"Here you are, Tom," said Harry placing a yellow envelope in Tom's hand. "I think that there's enough there to cover my bill, but if there isn't, I'll pay the difference when we get back."

Tom nodded. "Good luck, Mr. Potter."

Harry stretched out his hand and Tom shook it. "Thank you for everything, Tom."

"It has been a pleasure, Mr. Potter," said Tom, smiling.

Harry and Hermione stepped out of the Leaky Cauldron and into the cold night. Tom followed them as long as he could see them, until they disappeared in the darkness.

Next stop The Burrow.


	9. First Stage: The Burrow

Disclaimer: Harry Potter rocks, but he isn't mine.

A/N: Ah, ah! That's wonderful: my new beta-reader is fast! I can actually see the end of this story uploaded before the next Ice Age now! That would be cool, wouldn't it? Anyway, back to serious things; I don't have anything cool to say here, that's annoying. I like long Author's Note. Oh well, I think that all I should write is: enjoy the chapter! TTFN

To LeanneC: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter! And it didn't take you long, don't worry at all.

**First Stage: The Burrow**

Hermione suddenly stopped and looked at the starry sky. She thought that she has never seen such a beautiful sky. There were no clouds, and the stars lightened the path.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and closed her eyes.

"Are you ok?" asked Harry, concerned.

"Yes, I am," she answered, smiling and turning her head to face him. "I've never felt better. The stars are so bright tonight."

Harry nodded and looked at the sky. "They are," he murmured. Then he lowered his eyes and looked at Hermione again. "Are you tired?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. On the contrary, I think I can go on walking all night," she answered, looking Harry in his eyes.

Harry smiled, "Let's go, then."

"How long do you think it will take us to get to that place?" asked Hermione, walking next to Harry.

"I don't know, I've never gone there in this way," said Harry matter-of-factly.

"No?" asked Hermione, surprised. "What did you use then?"

"Floo Network."

"Oh, that weird way of traveling with fireplaces? Why aren't we using it right now?" asked Hermione thoughtfully.

"Because there is no longer a fireplace at the Burrow. And even if there was, the Ministry would not have connected the chimney of an abandoned house to the Floo Network," said Harry feeling bad at the thought that the Burrow was now deserted.

Hermione nodded and she suddenly realized something. "Hey, if you have never gone this way, how do you know that this is the right path?"

At that very moment they reached a bifurcation. Harry pointed at the signals. "Look," he said at Hermione, "we are following the street for Ottery St. Catchpole. That's our destination."

"That place is there?"

Harry looked at her, "Will you do me favor? Will you please stop call it 'that place'? It's the Burrow," he said a little bit more rudely than he intended.

Hermione lowered her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm really sorry."

Harry felt terribly guilty. "No, Hermione, listen. I'm sorry, ok? You didn't remember the name of that place and I didn't tell you that. I just didn't mean to be so harsh."

"It's ok," said Hermione looking into his eyes, and then smiling unexpectedly. "So, is the Burrow in Ottery St. Catchpole?" she asked paying attention to every word.

"It is," said Harry taking the direction that the signal pointed. "Or better, it almost is. It's near the village, to the south."

"Hmm . . . I think that you should tell me a little bit about it," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"What?" asked Harry, surprised. "I mean, why?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Because I don't even remember the name of the place, how is it supposed to help me with my memory?" she asked sweetly.

Harry sighed. "You are right, Hermione. And you don't have to think that I don't want to tell you these things because I think that they are unimportant. It's just that it's hard to talk about them for me. It's too early."

"Harry, maybe what you need is talking about these things," said Hermione sympathetically.

Harry seemed to think about what Hermione said. "Maybe," he muttered.

"Harry, please," said Hermione imploringly. "I need to know these things. And you need to talk and be listened."

Harry nodded, but he remained silent.

Hermione was walking on his left and kept looking at him. But she didn't want to force him into something that made him feel bad. They reached another bifurcation where they had to turn left finding themselves in open country.

"Hermione, what do you want to know?" Harry asked her so abruptly that it took her a little while for understanding the meaning of his words.

"What do I want to know?" she repeated uncertainly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. About the Burrow."

"Well, I would like to know everything, but I think that you can start talking about what it is," she said after thinking a bit.

Harry took a long breath. "It's a house, or better it was a house. Now it's a leftover."

"Who lived there?" asked Hermione interested.

"The Weasley Family," said Harry feeling a pain near to his heart.

Hermione looked at him; he didn't seem he wanted to go on talking.

"How am I related to the Weasley family?" then she understood something. "Am I a Weasley?"

"What?" asked Harry, bemused. "No, no. How did you come to this?"

Hermione shook her shoulders. "I simply don't understand why we are going there. I thought that maybe it was my house."

Harry looked at her realizing something. "Hermione, by chance, did I forget to tell you your surname?"

Hermione nodded, "Yes, you did."

"Well, it's Granger. And you are no way related with the Weasleys. Actually you are a Muggleborn," said Harry seriously.

"I am what?" she asked thoughtfully. "Is it something bad?"

"No, it's not. It just means that your parents were Muggles."

"Muggles?" asked Hermione, becoming more puzzled with every minute.

"Non-magical people. But you are a witch, I can assure that," said Harry smiling widely.

Hermione nodded and smiled back, "But then I don't understand how I'm related to the Weasleys."

Harry sighed. "Well, we have spent some wonderful summers at the Burrow. We were best friends with Ron Weasley."

Hermione nodded at every single word.

"We have been friends since our first year in Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts was our school; we spent there seven years in there."

"Seven years? Seems pretty important for my memory," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Yes, it is. It's on our 'Places to Go' list, don't worry," said Harry smiling.

"That sounds interesting, but now I would like to know something more about the Weasleys and Ron in particular, if you don't mind too much," said Hermione lowering her voice.

"No, it's ok. Well, let's start from the beginning then."

The hours passed by and Hermione listened, addicted to Harry. He told her how they met on the Hogwarts Express, how he saved Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of Secrets, and, naturally, of Voldemort, and how Ron was disappointed when she went to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum. Harry spoke about everything that was worth telling her about the Weasleys.

"After our graduation we went to work to the Ministry of Magic," continued Harry. "We worked in the Auror Headquarters; we were all Aurors. Ron, you and I. Ginny joined us a year later, too," said Harry.

Hermione noticed a strange thing. When Harry talked about that Weasley girl, he became sadder. Even sadder than when he named Ron Weasley, who was supposed to be his best friend.

"Did you like her?" she asked him cutting off his speech.

"What?" asked Harry, taken aback.

"Did you like Ginny Weasley?" she asked again. She feared the answer without knowing why.

"Well, we were very close. We have been together a couple of times, when we were in our sixth year and last year."

"Why it did end?"

"Because all the people that were too close to me were in great danger when Voldemort was alive."

"What about Ron and me? Have we been with you until the end?"

"You were, but that was different. You and Ron were a year older than her and sometimes a year can mean everything."

Hermione smiled. "I'm happy I'm not younger than you."

"I'm happy too," said Harry, smiling back. "Well, you know when you first said, 'What about Ron and me?', I thought that you meant if you were – hem – close like Ginny and I used to be," he added still smiling.

Hermione placed a hand on his arm and stopped. "Were we?" she barely whispered.

Harry looked at her and kept walking. "I don't know. I mean you were close, of course, you have always been. It's like you and Ron were just meant to be together."

"But?" asked Hermione looking at Harry.

"But, you were very reserved and Ron was – well – Ron was Ron and that says a lot," said Harry, smiling sadly.

Hermione thought a little bit about that. "Harry, I still don't understand if Ron and I were together," she said matter-of-factly.

"Yes, Hermione, you were," said Harry calmly.

Hermione suddenly felt bad. She let go Harry's arm and stopped.

Harry stopped too and looked at her. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know. But I feel depressed," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Maybe you are starting to remember," said Harry frantically.

Hermione shook her head. "No, quite the opposite. It's because I can't remember his face."

Harry nodded. It would have been too nice to be true. She wasn't remembering.

"Hey, but you do remember his face," said Harry suddenly taking off the back pack and searching in it for the album. "Do you remember it?" he said giving it to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and picked the album from Harry's hands.

"This is Ron," he said pointing at him. "And that's Ginny," he said showing Hermione a picture of her and Ginny.

"Yeah, I remember you told me everything about this album," said Hermione, closing the book and giving it to Harry, who threw it into his back pack again. "I think that it will be wonderful when I'll be able to remember all these people by myself."

Harry nodded and started to walk again, at that very moment they found themselves in front of another sign. 'Ottery St. Catchpole 3 miles'.

"Hermione there are still three miles to go, do you want to go on walking?"

"Harry, I told you that I could have been going on walking for all night, I can't wait to get there. Plus I've slept for almost all the day," answered Hermione, smiling.

Harry nodded.

"Are you going on with the story?"

"If you wish," said Harry, looking at her.

"Oh, yes. Please."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders again. "Something more about Ron?"

"Ron." Harry seemed to think hardly. "Ron was fantastic. The best friend anybody would like to have. He was great fun; he didn't take anything seriously. It was great staying with him. He was really a devoted friend and has always been a helper for me. You know he was the first friend I've ever had."

"What about me?" asked Hermione.

"You have been the second one," said Harry smiling.

Hermione smiled back.

"You know, you and Ron have been very important for me," said Harry unexpectedly.

Hermione felt the urge to hug him tightly. "And you and Ron were important for me?" she asked.

"Yes, I think we were," said Harry thoughtfully.

They passed by a small cottage, with a Ford parked next to it. The lights in the house were all turning off.

'If there is a house, we are probably getting near to the village,' thought Harry. He looked at Hermione. She was wearing a strange expression. It was like she feared something, and in the mean time, she was excited and happy. Indeed, she was happy.

They passed by another house that was a little bit bigger than the previous one.

"Do you think you are going to recognize the Burrow?" asked Hermione, looking at the house.

"Of course I am," said Harry, "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because you told me that it is destroyed, so it will certainly be different from how you remember it," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"I know perfectly well where it is. And if you had your memory you would remember it as well," he said sweetly.

They saw another house.

"I think that we are almost there, look at all these houses," said Hermione.

Harry nodded, "Yeah, I thought that too."

They walked for another half an hour without speaking. Finally they reached a small village. A big signal at the beginning of the main way said 'Welcome to Ottery St. Catchpole'.

"Here we are," said Harry stopping under a street lamp.

The village was quite little, with small cottages and a white church. It was empty. The only noise they were able to hear was the gurgle of the Ottery River.

Hermione searched for Harry's hand and she seized it tight. Harry looked at her.

"There's nothing you have to worry about, it's just a Muggle village," said Harry in a reassuringly tone of voice.

Hermione nodded. "Where is the house?" she asked looking around.

"Oh, it's over there," said Harry indicated towards South.

Hermione followed Harry's finger and looked in South direction. "I cannot see anything," she said rubbing her eyes twice.

"I bet you don't," said Harry smiling, "The Burrow is behind that hill. It is well hidden by the trees."

"Oh, it's pretty awkward to get there, isn't it?"

"Well, if you are a Muggle it is. All the Muggles here don't even know that the Burrow is there. But if you are a witch or a wizard, and you have spent almost all your last summers over there . . . well, it's pretty easy finding the way," said Harry, smiling.

"How long will it take us to get there?"

"Do you see the river?"

Hermione nodded.

"We have to pass through that river and follow the street for half a mile and then we have to take a path. It won't take too long." Harry checked the clock on the church's bell tower; it was 2 a.m. "Let's say that we will be there for 3 a.m."

"Ok, let's go. Curiosity is killing me," she said, sprinting towards the river.

Harry followed her.

They reached a small bridge on the Ottery River. The water under them was black and threatening. The street that opened in front of them was pretty large, but it was not asphalted. They followed it with their gaze until it disappeared between the hills.

"I can't wait to be there," said Hermione for the hundredth time.

"Me too," said Harry, trying to sound happy.

They walked down for the entire street. When the last house was far behind them, Harry stopped and started to look for something on his right.

"It must be here," he said looking in the woods.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"The path for getting to the Burrow. Muggles cannot see it, but we should be able to find it. It must be around this point," said Harry, checking intently the ground.

Hermione walked quickly in front of him and started to do the same thing some feet away. Unluckily there was no moon that night and the light of the stars didn't reach the under wood.

"Can't it be here?" asked Hermione, pointing her finger in the woods direction.

Harry moved forward to where she stood. Inches away from her feet started a small, almost invisible, path. It was completely different from how Harry remembered it. It was covered with leaves and roots. The trees were so compact that only a person at time could have passed in that place.

"Good job, Hermione," said Harry placing a hand on her shoulder. "You found the path for the Burrow. Let's go," he added, heading for the pathway.

Hermione followed him very closely. Under their feet, the path was barely visible under the leaves, but Harry seemed to know perfectly where he was going. Every step they took led them in a darker place.

"Ouch," moaned Hermione.

"Hermione, is everything alright?" asked Harry.

"Yes, it's just that a branch hit me on the cheek," she said, touching her cheek.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, trying to pay more attention at what he was moving.

"No, it's not your fault. It moved by itself," said Hermione, getting closer to Harry.

"Oh, well, they must be enchanted or something like that. You know, for undesired guests," said Harry, trying to get over an over-size root.

After some indeterminable minutes, they managed to get out of the trees. They looked at each other; Hermione's cheeks were covered with small cuts, like Harry's hands.

Harry pulled out his wand and, after some seconds, they were back to normal.

When they turned for seeing where they were, they found themselves in a huge, grassy field. It was like a big, green valley.

"It's wonderful," exclaimed Hermione. "That's the most beautiful place on Earth," she said, taking a step on the grass.

Harry looked at the place. It was everything like he remembered; they were in the right place. The only thing that didn't fit was the Burrow or, better, the fact that the Burrow wasn't visible from where they stood. With its four stories, it should have been clearly noticeable.

"Which way?" asked Hermione without taking her eyes away from the field.

"This way," said Harry, surpassing her.

Hermione followed him. Harry was walking quickly towards the tall grass - a little bit too quickly for Hermione.

"Harry, slow down, I can't reach you," she said, panting.

When Harry stopped, Hermione almost ploughed into him. They were exactly were the Burrow should have been, but there was only grass.

Harry fell on his knees and placed his hands on the ground.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered from behind.

"Hermione, the Burrow is vanished," said Harry bitterly.

Hermione looked around, trying to find something in that place that remembered her something. Nothing.

She walked up and down the place where Harry said that the Burrow was. Nothing.

"Harry, are you su-," something that was glittering a couple of feet away captured her attention. She walked quickly towards it without even finishing talking to Harry.

Harry noticed that she was walking away and got on his feet to follow her. "What have you found?" he asked her as she kneeled next to the glittering thing.

"What's this?" she asked him.

Harry gazed at what looked like a wing mirror. A blue wing mirror, half broken.

"It's a piece of a car," said Harry looking at it.

"A car?" asked Hermione, bemused.

"Yes, a Muggle way of traveling," said Harry looking around.

Then he felt butterflies in his stomach. Some feet beside the place where Hermione found the wing mirror there were the remains of a house. There were stones everywhere. Pieces of roof, Muggle artifacts from Mr. Weasley collection, broke broomsticks and old books.

"Hermione, I was wrong, the Burrow was over there," said Harry excitedly walking quickly in the direction of the things.

"Oh, my gosh," muttered Hermione when they get there.

Harry nodded. "Pretty awful, isn't it?"

"Are we near the place where you have fought the Battle?" she asked, concerned.

Harry shook his head. "Nope."

"Oh, my gosh," repeated Hermione. "If we aren't even near the place where you have fought the Battle, what about the other places?"

"We will find out in due time," said Harry. "Now we have to find something familiar here."

Harry kneeled and started to pick up piece after piece. It was full of plugs and batteries.

"What are these things?" asked Hermione, picking up some batteries.

"Batteries," answered Harry. "They are Muggle things."

"Muggle things?" asked Hermione, examining them.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley collected Muggle things," said Harry matter-of-factly.

"They are so many," said Hermione looking around.

"Well, he had a lot of this stuff," said Harry, moving towards the ruins of the Burrow.

"Hermione, I think that we should sit here and look for something," said Harry, sitting on the remains of a wall.

Hermione took place next to him. "For example?" she asked, picking up a piece of sheet.

"I don't know," muttered Harry.

They spent hours on the ruins of the Burrow. Hermione questioned Harry about all the things she picked up. But she couldn't remember a thing about that house.

"Are you sure you aren't remembering anything?" Harry asked her for the tenth time, while the sun was rising behind the hill.

"I'm sure, Harry. I'm sorry," said Hermione miserably.

"No, it's ok, I just wanted to know," said Harry reassuringly.

"Harry if I tell you a thing, will you get angry?" she asked him, putting down another piece of a book.

"Of course not, Hermione," said Harry, smiling.

"I'm hungry," she said, looking simply at him.

Harry smiled. "I was wondering when you would have asked me for breakfast," he said, pulling out his wand and moving it over their heads. A couple of small trays appeared out of nowhere in the air and placed gently on Harry and Hermione's laps. They were fitted with tea and cookies.

"Thank you," said Hermione, smiling.

"You're welcome," answered Harry, smiling back.

They ate everything without speaking. Then Harry moved his wand again and everything disappeared. Hermione got up and stretched her arms over her head. Then she looked around at the ruins lightened by the sun.

'The house that was here must have been really big,' she thought, looking around. She tried to concentrate on the place she was standing. 'Come on Hermione,' she thought, closing her eyes. 'Come on, why can't you remember?'

"Hermione, are you ok?"

Hermione opened her eyes, "Yes, I'm ok. I was trying to remember."

"I don't think that it works that way," said Harry, smiling.

"Which way?"

"That you concentrate on something. Maybe you just have to look around and then your memory will come back by itself."

Hermione seemed to think about Harry's words, but didn't answer.

"Hermione, I don't know about you," Harry broke the silence. "But I'm tired." He yawned.

Hermione looked at him and yawned too.

Harry smiled. "Why don't we take a little nap?"

"And what about all the things that are here? I mean we checked just a small part of them," said Hermione, waving her hand towards the grounds.

"Well, I don't think that they are going to help you in any way. Maybe there is too little left of the Burrow," said Harry sadly.

"Maybe you are right," said Hermione miserably.

"So, are you tired?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "Yes, I think."

Harry kneeled down and picked up pieces of sheets and blankets that lay on the ground and put them all together. Slowly, something that looked like a big bed was created on the grass.

Harry looked at Hermione. "At last, we will be a little bit comfortable," he said.

Hermione smiled. "It's great, thank you," she said, sitting on the 'bed'.

Harry sat next to her. "It's snug," said Harry, lying down.

"It is," said Hermione lying down next to him, taking his right arm between her hands and pulling herself closer to him.

Harry felt her warm body next to his. It was a wonderful sensation. He closed his eyes and smelled her scent.

"Harry?" Hermione called him.

"Yeah?" said Harry snapped out of his thoughts.

"What is the next stage?"

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the sky. "Hogsmeade."

"Hogsmeade?"

"It's a village. A Wizarding village."

"Maybe it will help me more than the Burrow," she said. getting even nearer to Harry. Now he could feel her breath. He stayed there without moving for a while, thinking about how happy he was at that very moment.

"You know, Hermione, the only problem is that I don't know how we will get there," said Harry.

He waited for an answer from Hermione, but it didn't come. He turned his head towards her and found her asleep. He lowered on her face and kissed her gently on her forehead. Then he closed his eyes and fell asleep as well.

The first thing that he thought when he woke up was that he hadn't had any nightmares. Then he felt something hard next to his head. It was like he was sleeping on a rock.

He opened his eyes, but it took a little for him to focus on what was lying next to him. It was big and turquoise.

'What the hell?' thought Harry, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. He sat up and looked at Hermione who was still sleeping next to him on the 'bed'.

He turned his face and looked to the thing that had woken him up.

When he realized what it was, he couldn't help but scream for happiness.

"Oh, my God," he said, looking at the Ford Anglia which was parked next to him. Hermione moaned on the bed and turned her head on the other direction.

Harry got nearer to the car. "If you could speak I would like to know how you can still be here," he said, opening the door and sitting on the seat in front of the hand wheel. He checked out all the knobs and the buttons.

"Seems like everything is ok," said Harry, patting the dashboard.

The car answered to him causing the engine to rumble.

Hermione woke up because of a very irksome noise. When she opened her eyes, she saw that the sun was high in the sky. She stretched her hand behind her.

'Where is Harry?' she thought when her hand only touched the air.

She sat up and jerked her head towards the place where she heard that noise and found herself almost face to face with a blue monster.

She would have liked to scream, but at that very moment Harry jumped out of the monster.

"Hermione," he said happily. "Hermione, look I've found a way to get to Hogsmeade quickly," he said, waving his hands towards the car.

"What?" asked Hermione bemused.

"Do you know what this thing is?" asked Harry, helping her to get on her feet.

Hermione shook her head while she was looking at the thing.

"It's a car. A flying car. We will go to Hogsmeade with it," said Harry.

"Is it dangerous?" asked Hermione uncertainly.

"No, of course it's not. I would never let you do something dangerous, would I?" asked Harry, almost laughing. He decided that it was better if he didn't tell her that she used to be afraid of flying.

"No, I don't think you would," said Hermione, looking at the car.

"Get on then," said Harry, throwing the back packs on the back seats and sitting on the driving seat.

Hermione opened the left door and sat next to Harry. "But I'm a little bit hungry. Can't we eat before?"

Harry sighed. "We will eat while we are flying," he said, turning the key.

The car coughed for a couple of seconds and then the motor rumbled. Harry pushed the flying button and the car moved, but it didn't rise from the ground.

"Are you really, really sure that it's not dangerous?" Hermione asked again and fastened her seatbelt.

"Yes, I am," said Harry glaring at the car. "Lets try again."

Harry pushed another time the button, this time the car lifted from the ground a couple of inches. Then it started to rise more and more. Harry pushed the time lapse and the car started to fly away from the Burrow.

Second stage, Hogsmeade.


	10. Second Stage: Hogsmeade

Disclaimer: Nope, nope, nope. Not mine. 

A/N: Oh, yes. I remember what I said, ' my new beta-reader is fast!', well, she was, but, as usually – she disappeared. But now, I found a new one! And she's even faster! Yay! Okay, something about the chapter: there's a little sentence that I think you should remember, you know just for understanding a little bit better the next episodes. By the way, I really hope that you'll enjoy it.

To Danii: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter, you did great job.

**Second Stage: Hogsmeade**

"Harry, are you sure that this thing is absolutely safe?" asked Hermione for the tenth time. She was holding onto everything she could get a grip on.

"Hermione, you don't have to worry," said Harry as he looked out of the window.

They were almost over Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry smiled happily, and then he suddenly remembered something. He looked quickly at the dashboard and pushed a button. The car wavered a little and then coughed.

"What did you do?" asked Hermione in a high pitched voice, gripping the bottom of the seat even tighter.

"I'd just forgotten to push the button for the invisibility device," said Harry, laughing a bit hysterically.

"And it was so bad?" asked Hermione, worriedly.

"Oh, well, let's just say that all the Muggles down there would have seen a flying car over their heads," said Harry, looking down at the small village under them.

Harry pulled his back pack towards him and took out his wand. "You did say that you were hungry, didn't you?" he said, driving with only his right hand.

"It doesn't matter," said Hermione. "But please, please keep both your hands on that thing," she shrieked as the car began to drop.

"Hermione, calm down," said Harry, amused. He waved his wand in the air and a sandwich appeared out of nowhere in Hermione's lap.

"Thank you," she said, she said, slowly letting go of the handhold, and picking up the sandwich."

"You're welcome," he said smiling and waving the wand once more so that another sandwich appeared in his hand.

Hermione ate the sandwich so silently that Harry had to keep glancing at her to make sure she was still there.

"Come on Hermione," he said when he had finished his meal. "Don't you like the way we're travelling?"

"I would have preferred to go there on foot," she said nervously.

" It would have taken us much too long," said Harry calmly. "We'll be there this evening at least with the flying Anglia."

Harry couldn't help laughing when the car jumped and Hermione shrieked, screwing up her eyes so she wouldn't see anything.

"You know, Hermione, the view from here is wonderful; you should open your eyes and look down," said Harry jokingly.

"I don't think so," said Hermione determinedly without opening her eyes.

"You won't know if you don't try," said Harry, grinning. He had been permeated with a strange euphoria since they got into the car. That was weird, since their first attempt to recover Hermione's memory had been a complete fiasco. Harry should have felt at least a little bit dejected. On the contrary; he felt like the happiest man on Earth and couldn't wait to get to Hogsmeade.

"Harry?" called Hermione.

"Yes?"

"I was just thinking; how do you know that we're going in the right direction?" asked Hermione, her eyes still closed.

"We have to go north, Hermione," said Harry peacefully. "And I know which way north is."

"Okay, okay, if you're sure, then I won't say anything else," said Hermione.

Harry laughed again.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked, finally looking over at him.

"Didn't you say that you weren't going to say anything else?" asked Harry, chuckling.

"Oh, well, never mind then," said Hermione, waving a hand.

"Hermione, I know that you're nervous because we're flying, but I was just joking," said Harry calmly.

"I'm not nervous," whispered Hermione, looking at her hands. "But I don't know why somebody should be all that happy to be in a thing like this."

"I'm cheerful because I love to fly. It doesn't matter which way I do it, I always love it as long as I don't have my feet on the ground!" said Harry, smiling softly as he remembered the rush of wind in his hair and his Firebolt under him.

"Did I like to fly?" asked Hermione slowly.

Harry was torn; if he told her the truth, she'd say that he was evil to make her fly, but did he want to lie to Hermione about her past? He decided he did.

"Of course you liked flying," said Harry, trying to sound convincing and looking straight in front of him.

Hermione opened an eye. "Really?"

"Hermione, I would never lie to you," said Harry, placing a hand over his heart.

Hermione decided that Harry was right. She opened her other eye and slowly let go of the handhold. Then she inched towards the window and looked down.

"Wow," she said breathlessly, her eyes widening.

"Do you like the view?" Harry asked softly, smiling.

"I do," she said, not looking away from the landscape below her.

Harry wondered why he didn't tell her that she loved to fly earlier. It would have made things so much easier.

"Look, Harry." Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked, glancing over at her.

"Down there, there's something. It's like a street but it's somehow different," said Hermione, pointing under them.

Harry looked down and when he saw it, he became even happier than before.

"Hermione, it's the railway!" he almost cried.

"It's – what?" she asked puzzled.

"The railway! It means that we're on the right way to Hogsmeade," said Harry, slapping the steering wheel.

"Oh, but you said that you already knew that we were on the right way to Hogsmeade," said Hermione.

"I know, but now I'm sure," he said, steering the car towards the ground.

"That was funny," said Hermione slowly as the car wavered. She felt quite reassured since Harry has just told her that she liked to fly.

Harry laughed and steered a little bit more the car towards the ground a little bit more.

"What is a railway, anyway?" asked Hermione curiously.

"It's a kind of road used by trains, this railway in particular," said Harry. "It's for the Hogwarts Express. It will take us straight to Hogsmeade."

"The Hogwarts Express?" asked Hermione, puzzled.

"Yep, it's the train that every student uses to get to Hogwarts. Or that every student _used_ to use to get to Hogwarts," said Harry, sighing deeply.

"Well, what about Hogsmeade?" asked Hermione.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked back, looking at her for a moment.

"I don't know, why are we going there?"

"Well, when we were at Hogwarts, we used to go to Hogsmeade about once a month and we had a great time there. So, I thought that maybe it could have helped you with your memory," said Harry pensively.

"Okay, you're probably right," said Hermione. "But can you tell me something about the place?"

"Yes, of course. I'll tell you all I can remember. It's been a long time since I've gone there. And I can assure you that everything will be different from how it was," said Harry.

Then, for a couple of hours, he told her about how happy they were during their trips to Hogsmeade and answering her many questions.

It was almost sunset when Harry spotted a castle high on a hill.

"Look, Hermione," he said, interrupting her hundredth question.

"What?" she asked, looking around.

"Over there," said Harry, pointing right in front of them.

Hermione let out a breath. "What is that?" she asked with wondering eyes.

"It's Hogwarts," said Harry, and he couldn't help smiling.

"Hogwarts," repeated Hermione dreamily. Then she came out of her thoughts. "Hogwarts? But shouldn't we go to Hogsmeade first?"

"Yeah, Hogsmeade is over there," said Harry, indicating a small valley next to the hill.

"I can't see anything," said Hermione, craning her neck to see into the valley.

"Well, me neither, but I'm sure that it_ is_ over there," said Harry self-confident.

Hermione pressed her face against the window. They passed over a little forest and she spotted a big lake, then something captured her attention.

"Harry, look!" she cried.

Harry looked down as well. It was like one of those temples he'd often seen on TV, covered with vegetation and forgotten by everyone. Actually, it was Hogsmeade.

"It's Hogsmeade," said Harry with a grin, steering the car down to land.

When they reached the ground, the car jumped a couple of times before stopping. Harry was the first one to exit. He opened the door and jumped out, looking around as he did. They'd landed next to what was once the Hogsmeade Train Station.

What was once Hogsmeade was now part of the forest. There were no shops or buildings, just a mass of ruins. It was even worse than the Burrow; this was an entire village ruined.

Hermione opened her door too. "Oh my goodness," she breathed.

"Yeah," answered Harry, glancing around. "You know, I'd expected it to be worse. We're getting nearer to the place where we fought the Last Battle."

"Really?" Hermione picked her way around the car and closer to Harry.

"Yeah." Harry turned towards the Ford Anglia, picked up their backpacks and gave one to Hermione. "Let's go and have a look around," he said, closing the back door.

"That way," said Harry, taking a small street covered with roots and leaves.

Hermione followed him closely. In a couple of minutes, they reached the first ruin. It was the Three Broomsticks. Harry stopped in front of it. "Look, Hermione. We used to have Butterbeers here. It was a great place to stay when it was cold and snowy outside."

Hermione nodded. Harry started to walk again, and passed by several buildings but stopped in front of a small one. "That was Honeyduke's. It sold all kind of sweets and chocolates; it was my favourite place."

"Which one was my favourite?" asked Hermione as she stood next to him.

Harry turned and indicated a big grey wall. "The Post Office, I think. The first time you saw it, you said that it was amazing, full of different owls."

"Sounds a little boring, though," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"Well, that was you," said Harry, smiling fondly.

"Boring?" asked Hermione, taken aback.

"No, no," Harry said quickly. "You were just – well, I mean you – oh, well, you liked that kind of stuff."

"Owls?" asked Hermione, looking at Harry closely with an amused smile.

"No, no, actually you owned a cat. But you were interested in how everything worked," said Harry, trying to sound casual.

But Hermione hadn't been listening to him since the word 'cat'. "A cat?" she asked, smiling.

"Yeah, a ginger cat. Ron thought that it looked more like a pig with hair, but it was a smart pet," said Harry, enjoying this subject.

"Not very nice, that Ron was," said Hermione, chuckling.

"He was just joking," said Harry, more rudely than he meant to.

Hermione looked at him and swallowed. "Where is it now?" she came back to the cat subject as soon as she could.

"Who? Crookshanks?" asked Harry, distractedly.

"Who?"

"Your cat's name was Crookshanks." Harry smiled softly in remembrance. "Well, he died a couple of years ago. He was pretty old," he said gently.

"Oh," was all Hermione could manage to say.

"Yeah." Harry started to walk quickly towards Zonko's Joke Shop.

"Harry slow down, I can't walk as fast as that," said Hermione breathlessly.

"Oh, sorry," said Harry, slowing down a little.

"Why do you sometimes speed up like that?" she asked him as she caught up, breathing heavily.

Harry shrugged and looked around. "I don't notice it." He chuckled. "Maybe it's because I'm excited about being here."

"And what will you do when we're at Hogwarts?" asked Hermione, laughing.

"See anything you recognize?" he asked hastily.

Hermione's laughter faded away as she looked around. "No, I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay," said Harry soothingly. "Let's keep on walking, there are still loads of things to see."

He showed her Gladrags Wizardwear, Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, Madam Puddifoot's, Dervish and Banges and last, but certainly not least, The Hog's Head.

"You know, Harry," said Hermione quietly as they finished, "I don't think that this place is going to help me a lot with my memory problem."

"Well," said Harry, sitting on the remains of a wall. "If the Burrow didn't help you, I don't think this will, either," he said bitterly, holding his head in his hands.

"Then why are we here?" she asked, carefully sitting next to him. "I mean, why didn't we go directly to Hogwarts?"

"I didn't want to leave anything untried," he said, looking at her intently.

Casually, Hermione took his left hand between hers. Harry couldn't help blushing a little. "Well, I trust you plenty, Harry," she said, playing with his fingers. "So, if you want me to enter each and every building, I'll do that."

"I don't want you to do that," he said absently. He was completely concentrated on Hermione's touch on his hand. Her hands were so soft and warm. They were still a bit bony, but it was a wonderful sensation.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Without even thinking about what he was doing, he placed an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Hermione laid her head on Harry's chest and closed her eyes. It was so nice, so –

"_Look, Ron!"_

Hermione jumped. "What was that?" she asked, looking around.

Harry got to his feet and looked around too. "What?" he asked, on the alert.

"I heard a voice," she said nervously, swallowing.

"You heard a voice? I didn't." He looked at her worryingly.

"I swear I heard a voice," she said, now panicking a little.

"Hermione, calm down and look at me; we're all alone here. What did the voice say?" Harry was looking at her, concerned.

"It said 'Look, Ron!'" she said, frantically glancing around. "Come on Harry, you must have heard it."

"Look, Ron?" Harry was puzzled. "Are you sure?" He was really afraid now that Hermione was hearing things.

"I'm sure," she said firmly. "It was a girlish voice, and she was screaming."

"Screaming because she was afraid?" asked Harry carefully.

"No, it sounded more like a joyful scream," said Hermione, biting her lip in thought.

"Hermione, I think you're just hungry and-"

"You don't believe me, do you?" she said, looking at him, crestfallen.

"Of course I do, it's just that once you told me that even in the Wizarding world, hearing voices isn't a good sign. I don't think-"

"Did you hear a voice?" Hermione asked him suddenly, looking into his eyes.

Harry was startled. "Well, yeah, but that…well, that was different."

"Why?" she asked hastily.

"Because it was a big, nasty snake, and you are not a Parselmouth," said Harry seriously.

"Oh," said Hermione, not understanding a thing. "Maybe I was dreaming, then."

"Maybe," said Harry placing a hand over her shoulder. "Maybe, maybe we're just talking too much about Ron and everything."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"Well, we should find a place for the night," said Harry, looking around in the darkness of the night.

"Yeah," agreed Hermione. "What about that house that I saw at the beginning of the village?"

"Which house, Hermione? They're all in ruins," said Harry tiredly.

"No, I saw a small house near the Station," she insisted, turning back to look.

Harry seemed to think deeply, then he became aware of something. "No, it can't be," he said, but it sounded like he was talking to himself.

"What?" asked Hermione, now interested.

"It can't be the Shrieking Shack," said Harry, shaking his head and walking quickly back to the Station.

"The – what?" asked Hermione, trying to keep up with him.

"The Shrieking Shack. It can't be, that cabin was a mess even before the Last Battle, and-"

But Harry didn't finish his sentence because he had already spotted the Shrieking Shack. It was exactly like Harry remembered, with an overgrown garden and its windows all boarded up.

"That's not possible," he said slowly, taking in the sight of one intact building where so many others lay in ruins.

"What? It seems like it went through loads of damage, just like the rest of the village," said Hermione, looking at it in bewilderment as she stood next to Harry.

"What? No, no, it was exactly like that even before the Last Battle."

"Oh," Hermione said. "I see."

"Let's go." Harry headed for the Shack. Hermione followed him closely. The place gave her the chills.

"How are we supposed to get inside?" asked Hermione as they found themselves in front of the sealed entrance. She looked around as if she could find a key or a gatekeeper.

Harry pulled his wand from his backpack and pointed it at the entrance.

"Alohomora," he said confidently.

The door burst open with a screech. Hermione looked at him admired.

Harry entered first and looked around. It didn't seem any more solid than it had been in the past, but it wasn't less firm either.

Hermione reached him and slipped her hand into his. "Harry, I don't think we should stay here." She glanced around nervously maybe.

"Don't worry, Hermione. If the Wave of Power that tore down everything during the Last Battle hasn't torn it down, I don't anything is going to make it come down," said Harry, climbing the stairs with Hermione close behind him.

When they reached the second floor, they found themselves in the room where Sirius had dragged Ron in their third year.

Harry looked around. "I think we can take a nap here before we climb the hill to Hogwarts," said Harry, sitting on the bed.

A cloud of dust rose from the sheets and Hermione coughed and waved it away. "Are you sure?"

"Well, it's not the cleanest place on Earth, but I prefer to have a roof over my head, rather than sleeping on the hard ground," said Harry. He patted the bed, causing some more dust to fly in every direction.

Hermione sat down next to him. "Well, if that's really what you want to do," she said, pulling down a big spider from the bed canopy with a grimace of distaste.

Harry lay down with his arms under his head and closed his eyes. The bed was almost comfortable after all.

Then he felt a weight next to him. Hermione had just laid down beside him.

"Are you cold?" asked Harry, without opening his eyes.

"Yeah," said Hermione, getting closer to him.

Harry placed an arm around her shoulders. "Is it better?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded and smiled with her eyes closed.

"You know, I can't wait to go to Hogwarts," she said, snuggling into his side.

"Really? I can't wait either," he said, and concentrated on Hermione's breath. Her hair gently tickled his hand and Harry smiled. She was so small and defenceless. Harry would have lain there forever with Hermione at his side.

'Why am I thinking of her this way?' he thought in bewilderment when Hermione moved a bit heavily against him.

"Harry?" Hermione snapped him out of his thoughts.

"What?" he asked quickly, to cover his thoughts.

"How will we get to Hogwarts?" she asked him.

"On foot, I think. It's better because it's near and we can just climb the hill like we used to do when we were at school," said Harry lazily, yawning.

Hermione sighed. "I can't wait to be there," she repeated in a sleepy voice.

"Yeah," said Harry. Then he felt her breath fall into a steady rhythm and he knew that she was asleep.

'Next stage: Hogwarts,' was Harry's last waking thought.


	11. Third Stage: Hogwarts

Disclaimer: Well, I think that everybody knows that Harry Potter is not mine, and if you don't, check out my nick name it doesn't say 'Jo' or 'JKR'.

A/N: What did I tell you? This beta-reader is fast! I'm so happy, I think I've never updated this story so quickly in two years. Well, about this chapter, my beta pointed out that there are no portraits in the Great Hall, well I think that there should be. I'll write to J.K. and tell her that some portraits in the Great Hall would cheer up the atmosphere. No, okay, I'm joking, this is just a sort of apologize for having placed some portraits in the Great Hall. Well, by the way, I really hope that you'll like this chapter, it's quite long, I think the longest of this story, if not the longest I've ever written. Well, enjoy it!

To Danii: Wow, a big thank you for your rapidity and for all your constructive comments and compliments.

**Third Stage: Hogwarts **

Harry opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling. A big spider was climbing the wall; he looked at it and smiled. Then he suddenly became aware of something. He hadn't had his usual nightmare. It wwI It was the third time he'd slept without any nightmares. What was different? Why had he slept so well?

Hermione took a deep breath in her sleep.

'Hermione,' thought Harry. 'Ever since she's been with me, I'm not having the nightmares.' He looked down at her. 'But why?'

Hermione moaned and covered her eyes with her hand when a ray of sun entered the window.

Harry felt that his arm was hurting him under Hermione's body. He tried to move it as slowly as possible.

When he was almost free, Hermione slowly opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily, then she smiled. "Good morning," she said in a low voice.

"Good morning," answered Harry, smiling down at her. "Did you sleep all right?"

"Hmm, almost. I had something behind my back that hurt me all night," she said, rubbing her back and wincing.

"And I had_ someone_ on my arm that hurt me too," he said massaging his own arm.

"Oh, Harry I'm sorry," said Hermione, turning to rub Harry's arm.

"It's not your fault," said Harry quickly. "We just fell asleep too quickly and didn't move for the whole night."

"Is it better?" Hermione asked Harry. She wasn't listening to him, but kept massaging his arm.

"Yeah," answered Harry, flushing. "Fairly better."

"That's good, because I'm starving and I want you to be able to use your wand," said Hermione, beaming at him and sitting up on the bed.

Harry snorted. "Was that the only reason that you were rubbing my arm?" he asked, sitting up next to her.

"No, of course," said Hermione, moving closer to him. "Also because I felt guilty. I slept on it."

Harry couldn't help laughing. "What do you want to eat?" he asked her when his laughter faded away.

"I don't know. I think that anything will be fine with me," she said pensively.

Harry decided that they could eat bacon and eggs, just for celebration. Celebration of what, though?

Hermione seemed very pleased with the breakfast. "Harry it was wonderful," she said, licking her fingers.

"Yeah, I'm a pretty good cook," joked Harry.

Hermione laughed and jumped to her feet. "I'm ready to go," she said happily.

"Well," said Harry, vanishing the plates of their breakfast, "I'm ready too. But we shouldn't forget our backpacks. You did have some more clothes in it, right?"

"Yeah, why?" asked Hermione, slinging on her backpack.

"Because I think we'll be able to take a shower in Hogwarts," said Harry, picking up his own backpack.

Hermione stopped abruptly. "Do you think that I stink?" she asked hesitantly.

"What?" exclaimed Harry, taken aback. "No, no. Of course you don't! It's me, I think I need to take a shower."

Hermione looked at him suspiciously, but followed him down the stairs.

Outside the sun was already high in the sky.

Harry stopped in front of what remained of the Hogsmeade Station. "Look," he said to Hermione. "Hogwarts is over there." He pointed at the hill.

"Let's go then," said Hermione, walking ahead of him.

"Hey, wait for me, you don't know the way," said Harry, catching her wrist.

Hermione looked into his eyes and nodded. "You're right. I just can't wait to be there," she said, laughing.

"Really?" Harry grinned. "Try to stay behind me, then," he said, beginning to run away.

Hermione stared at him, stunned, as he ran over the hill. Then she started to run after him. "Wait for me," she called after him.

"You have to catch me," said Harry, slowing just a bit.

They ran for all the hill up to Hogwarts. Their laughter was the only thing that could be heard for several miles.

Hermione was right behind Harry, her hand stretched in front of her to seize his robe when Harry stopped so abruptly that she bumped into him and fell to the ground.

"Ouch," she said, rubbing her lower back.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry." Harry offered his hand to her and help her to get on her feet. "Are you ok?" he asked worryingly.

"Yeah," she said, still rubbing her back. "What did you do that for?"

"What?"

"Why did you stop short?"

Harry turned to look in front of them. Hermione followed his gaze and looked in the same direction. She was breathless. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. They were standing next to a high broken gate, not far from which was a huge great castle.

Harry looked at her. "It's Hogwarts," he whispered.

"I've never seen anything like it," said Hermione, without taking her eyes away from it.

"Oh, yes, you did. You just can't remember it," said Harry matter-of-factly.

Hermione nodded, still not looking at him.

"I can't believe that it's still here like nothing happened," said Harry, looking around him in shock. "I mean, it should be a ruin, but it's here and it's undamaged – like something defended it."

Unexpectedly Hermione took Harry's hand and smiled at him. "Well, I think we should go and have a look around," she said, walking up the path towards the castle.

Harry let her guide him up the path. It was such a great sensation being at Hogwarts again, and with Hermione at his side. The only things missing were Ron and Ginny.

They reached the Oak Front Door. It was all locked up.

_Knock. Knock._

"What are you doing?" asked Harry, bemused, when Hermione knocked on the door.

"I'm knocking," she answered simply.

"Oh, yes, like anybody would-"

Harry's words were interrupted when the front door opened enough to permit an old man to look out.

"Who are you?" he asked rudely.

Harry hadn't yet recovered from the shock of finding someone in Hogwarts, so Hermione answered. "We're just travellers. We wanted to ask you if we could come in and find a place for the night."

The man looked at Hermione with his lamp-like eyes.

'Lamp-like eyes?'

Harry looked at him intently.

"Filch," he said, surprised, stepping back.

Filch looked at Harry as if he was seeing him for the first time. "Potter," he hissed. Then he came back to face Hermione and seemed to think very hard.

"And you're that Granger girl," he said to her.

Hermione's face brightened upon hearing that the man knew her.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked him.

"What do you think?" answered Filch, opening the big door a bit more so that Harry and Hermione could enter. "I live here," he said, making his way down the hall.

"Yeah, I know that you live here, you always have, but my question was, more to the point, why aren't you dead?" Harry asked him directly.

Filch snorted. "Maybe I'm stronger than any one of you has always believed," he answered sharply.

Harry ignored him and seemed to think hard. "Of course," he exclaimed while they were passing the door of the Great Hall. "You were in Hogwarts when the Wave of Power spread from mine and Voldemort's wands. Hogwarts protected you."

Filch stopped and turned to face him. "Very interesting theory, Potter, but I wasn't here," he said, smirking. "I was in Hogsmeade."

Harry seemed taken aback at this revelation. 'Why would you have survived when loads of braver wizards and witch-?'

"You are not a wizard," Harry cried, his eyes wide.

"How dare you, Potter?" Filch's eyes were just a couple of slits as he took a step toward Harry.

"That's why you haven't died," said Harry quickly, backing from Filch. "It's because you're a Squib, and there's nothing magical about you. You survived because the Wave of Power destroyed only magical things and people."

Filch gritted his teeth.

Harry beamed at his brilliant theory and turned his head to face Hermione, but she wasn't there. He was sure that she had entered the Great Hall next to him, but now she wasn't beside him. He searched for her and for the first time looked around him. In the Hall, the four House tables were in their original positions and so was everything else. It was like all the students would just walk in at any time. Finally he spotted Hermione on the other side of the room. She was walking peacefully and looking at all the things that she came across.

Harry walked to her, leaving an infuriated Filch behind him. "Seen anything you recognise?" he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Hermione looked at him, rather surprised to find him next to her, then she shook her head. "Nope," she said, sighing.

Harry followed her while she kept walking in the Great Hall. She was interested in everything she saw, but the paintings captured her attention above everything.

"Harry look at those things, they move," she said, pointing to a small painting where a witch was knitting serenely.

Harry smiled. "Yes, I know. And guess what? They talk too," he said, greeting the lady in the painting. She smiled and answered him. Hermione looked at her, excited.

"Harry this place is wonderful!" she said, walking between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables. "I want you to tell me everything about it."

Harry looked at her. 'That makes me feel strange,' he thought. 'You're the one that read 'Hogwarts: A History' about a hundred times, and now you want _me_ to talk about it.'

"How long will you two stop here?"

Harry heard Filch's voice, but didn't find him next to the Slytherin table, where he'd left him. He glanced around the Great Hall.

"I'm over here, Potter," said Filch, sounding rather annoyed.

Harry looked over at the staff table. Filch was sitting in the Headmaster's chair, and was looking at Harry.

"I don't know yet," said Harry, making his way towards him.

"Why did you come here?" Filch asked rudely.

"Because we're searching for something." This time it was Hermione that answered.

Filch looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "What are you looking for at Hogwarts?"

"My memory," she said, walking towards him.

"Your memory?" Filch looked at her and laughed. "Oh well, I haven't seen it around."

"Maybe it's because you're not a wizard," said Harry sharply, stressing the word 'not'.

Filch glared at him and the laughter faded away. "Do you want to sleep in the Quidditch Pitch?" he asked, his voice as sharp as Harry's had been.

Harry glared back at him.

"Can we visit the Castle?" Hermione's voice came unexpectedly to both Harry and Filch.

Filch looked at her. "Yes, you can," he answered surprised.

"I don't think we need his permission, anyway," said Harry to Hermione.

But she wasn't listening to him. "Thank you, Mr. Filch," she said, taking Harry's hand and forcing him to follow her out of the Great Hall.

"Which way?" Hermione asked Harry when they found themselves in front of the marble staircase.

"Do you want to go up or down?"

"Both," said Hermione, looking at the stairs that led to the first floor.

"Let's go downstairs and then up to the first floor," he said, descending the stairs.

He led her to the Potions classroom and Snape's office, the deserted kitchens and dungeon five, trying to remember all the important things that she should have known.

When they climbed the stairs, they didn't stop at the ground floor, but kept going till the first, where Harry showed Hermione such classes as Defence Against the Dark Arts, History of Magic, Muggle Studies and the Hospital Wing, where the beds were all made up.

When Harry thought that she had seen enough, they climbed another flight of stairs and reached the second floor and so on - until they reached the seventh one.

Every time Harry showed her something, all that Hermione could say was just 'wow'.

"This Castle is wonderful," she said, looking at the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

"It is," said Harry, looking out of the window.

"And it's huge, too," said Hermione, following Barnabas as he tried to teach the trolls to dance. "It took us a lot to visit it all. What time is it?"

Harry shrugged and looked around, searching for one of the grandfather clocks that usually stood in the corridors. He found one next to the statue of Lachlan the Lanky and read the hour.

"It's almost 2 p.m.," he said to her. "But about the hugeness of Hogwarts, we haven't finished visiting it yet."

"What?" asked Hermione, bewildered.

"Yeah, we have to go up the Towers," he said, smiling.

"How many are there?"

"Well, let me count them," said Harry, counting the towers on his fingers as he named them. "There's the Astronomy Tower, the Owlery, the Ravenclaw Tower, the Gryffindor Tower, Dumbledore's Office and the North Tower. No, wait, I don't think you want to go there," said Harry, drawing back a finger.

"Why?" asked Hermione curiously.

"Because the Divination Classroom's up there, and you stopped that subject after only a year. It's not going to be really useful for your memory problem," said Harry thoughtfully.

"Why did I stop that subject?" asked Hermione, interested.

"Because you thought it was a complete waste of time," said Harry, smiling softly.

"Oh, I see," said Hermione. "So, when are we going to climb the Towers?"

"Hmm, whenever you want, but I thought you would have wanted to eat first," said Harry, who was starving.

"Oh, I completely forgot about eating. This place is so exciting," she said, smiling brightly.

"Well, I'm a bit hungry," said Harry, placing a hand on his rumbling stomach. "If you want, you can always look at me as I'm eating-"

"No," Hermione said, cutting him off. "I think I'll eat with you, I'm pretty hungry, too."

Harry grinned and thought about a place where they could eat something peacefully. His eyes glanced along the corridor without focusing on anything in particular, then something captured his attention; the Fat Lady was waving cheerfully at him.

Harry realised that they were exactly in front of the Gryffindor Tower entrance, and what was better than the Gryffindor Common Room for sitting down and eating something?

Harry stepped near the portrait of the Fat Lady.

She smiled at him. "Oh, then what that fool Sir Cadogan was shouting all around Hogwarts is true. Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts," she said, looking at him.

"Good morning, Fat Lady," said Harry politely. Hermione stopped next to him and looked up at the portrait.

"Oh, you're Hermione Granger," the Fat Lady said, looking at her.

Hermione smiled shyly, and nodded.

"What brings you here?" the Fat Lady asked Harry.

"We're looking for Hermione's memory," said Harry, placing a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Oh," said the Fat Lady. "Looking for her memory? That's the strangest quest I've ever heard of."

Harry shrugged. "Well, we're visiting all the places that were familiar to her. Actually, can we go in the Gryffindor common room?"

The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows. "Do you have the password?"

"Nobody has the password, there isn't a single wizard in this place," said Harry to her.

"So I understand that you don't have the password," she said, looking intently at him.

"No," Harry hissed, getting annoyed.

"I cannot let you in, then," she said strictly.

Harry was ready to shout all the curses he knew at her, when Hermione spoke before him. "Well, I'm not sure, but if there's nobody here from whom we can get the password, I think that you should tell us. Although nobody will be able to enter."

The Fat Lady and Harry seemed to think about her speech. Harry couldn't think how that would have convinced the stupid portrait to let them in, but the Fat Lady seemed satisfied.

"Hmm, I think that you are quite right," she said thoughtfully. "The password is 'Butterbeer'."

"Thank you very much," said Hermione, smiling slyly. "Butterbeer."

"Come in, please," the portrait said, moving away from the hole in the wall.

Harry looked at Hermione with his mouth wide open whilst they climbed into the Gryffindor Common Room.

"You were great," he said to her.

"Oh, just for that," she said, flushing.

Then they both looked around. The room was filled with armchairs and tables, and was exactly as Harry remembered.

"It's a lovely place," said Hermione, sitting on an armchair next to the fireplace.

"Yes, it's nice," said Harry, sitting next to her. "What do you want to eat?" he asked her, smiling.

"Anything will be fine with me, Harry. I just want to eat quickly and go up the Towers," she said, looking around dreamily.

Harry waved his wand and a couple of plates appeared on the table in front of them. They were filled with mashed potatoes and steaks. Then two Butterbeers also materialised.

Hermione ate and drank quickly, and looked at Harry, still finishing his meal. Harry, feeling her gaze on him, raised his eyes. "Did you like the meat?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded, still looking at him.

"Hermione, you don't have to wait for me. You can go explore the Towers without me," he said to her.

"Oh, but I want to wait for you," she said quickly, smiling at him.

"Well, there is a place you have to go to by yourself," said Harry, chewing a mouthful of meat.

"Really? Why?" she asked, surprised.

"Because I'm not allowed in there. It's the Girls' Dorm," he said, pointing at the staircase that led there.

Hermione reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and turned, biting her lips. "Are you sure-"

"Yeah, of course, Hermione," said Harry, cutting her off. "Go ahead, I'll be waiting for you right here. I'm not going anywhere."

Hermione nodded, smiling at him, and started to climb the stairs.

Harry followed her with his gaze until she vanished from sight, and then he came back to his steak and mashed potatoes.

'I'm a good cook,' he thought, cleaning his mouth with a napkin. When the Butterbeer bottle was also empty, he waved his wand lazily in front of him, and everything disappeared.

He leaned back in the armchair and closed his eyes, trying to remember how the common room had been filled with Gryffindors, young and old. He saw a seventeen year-old Ron playing Wizard's Chess, and next to him Neville was trying to write a Potions Essay. Lavender and Parvati were giggling on the other side of the room.

And then, in the middle of the chamber, stood Ginny, who was smiling at him. Harry imagined himself coming nearer to her, taking her head between his hands and kissing her. He tried to remember how it felt. After what seemed ages, Harry imagined that they broke apart, but when he looked down, she wasn't Ginny anymore. It was Hermione.

"Harry. Harry!" Hermione's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "If that was you, it wasn't funny at all," she said, sounding rather afraid.

"Me? What?" asked Harry, jumping to his feet and ready to act.

"I heard voices again," she said, looking at him fearfully.

"What?"

"I heard voices again," she repeated tremulously.

"What did you hear?"

"It was a girl, she was talking about hair and things like that – I was too scared to pay much attention to it." Then she glared at him, her eyes burning into his. "Was it you?"

"What? Why would I do something like that?"

"I don't know."

"And you just said that it was a girlish voice," said Harry defensively.

"Oh, please," said Hermione, waving her hand. "You can fly, you can make things appear, and you have a magic wand. Don't you think you could also disguise your voice?"

Harry looked at her. "Well, actually, I can't," he said seriously.

Hermione sighed. "Then it wasn't you."

"It wasn't me," he said, shaking his head.

Hermione got closer to him. "I'm afraid."

"Hermione." Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders. "There's nothing to be afraid of. Hogwarts is full of ghosts and moving paintings; maybe it was just one of them."

Hermione seemed reassured and smiled.

"Are you ready for the tour of the Towers?"

Hermione nodded. "I'm ready."

"We can leave our backpacks here," said Harry, throwing his own on the armchair.

They visited the rest of the Gryffindor Tower and the Astronomy Tower, but they couldn't get in the Ravenclaw's because the painting was more intelligent than the Fat Lady. They visited the Owlery, but they passed the North Tower without stopping.

"Oh, Harry this castle is wonderful," said Hermione, climbing the stairs down from the Owlery.

"Yeah, and it's not finished yet," said Harry, helping her down. "There's still one more place to see."

"Which one?"

"The Headmaster's office," said Harry, walking in the direction of the Grand Staircase.

"We have to come back to the second floor. That's where the entrance is," explained Harry, descending the stairs.

When they reached the statue of the gargoyle, Harry thought he didn't have the password and the statue didn't talk.

"Fizzing Whizbee," said Harry aloud.

Nothing happened.

"Sherbet Lemon," he tried.

The statue stood still.

"Cockroach Cluster."

Nothing moved.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione, puzzled.

"I'm trying to guess the password for getting into the Headmaster's office," said Harry, trying to concentrate.

"Those names are too stupid to be passwords," said Hermione matter-of-factly.

"Well, my dear Know-It-All," said Harry, grinning, "I would like to inform you that all these stupid words were passwords once."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "I'm not a passwords expert, but I don't think they can work anymore if they have already been used."

Harry looked at her. In fact, what she was saying made total sense.

"Let me try something else, then," he said, thinking hard.

Hermione leaned against the wall and listened to Harry while he enumerated all the names of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and almost all the sweets that he could remember from Honeydukes.

"Harry maybe we should give up our hopes of getting in there," said Hermione when he started to kick the gargoyle statue.

"No," said Harry, jumping up and down holding his foot. "Dumbledore would have used one of these words, I'm pretty sure about that, and – no wait," he cried, snapping his fingers. "Dumbledore wasn't the last Headmaster here!"

"No?"

"No, it was McGonagall," said Harry. "Oh, blimey, I don't have any clue what kind of passwords she would have used."

Hermione followed Harry with her gaze as he started to pace up and down in front of her. "No, maybe I have. Maybe she chose the passwords for the Gryffindor Comm-"

But Harry didn't finish his sentence, because at the word 'Gryffindor', the statue of the gargoyle started to rotate and showed a spiral stone staircase behind it.

"Gryffindor," muttered Harry. "Professor McGonagall must have missed being the Head of our House. Let's go," he added, taking Hermione's hand and jumping on the stairs that were already spiralling upwards.

The stairs stopped in front of a highly polished oak door. Harry, still holding Hermione's hand, seized the handle and threw open the door.

Inside, the office was exactly as Harry remembered it the last time he'd seen it. Professor McGonagall didn't have the heart to change anything in there.

Harry heard Hermione's breath becoming shallower and looked at her.

"What is this place?" she asked, looking around at the strange little silver instruments that emitted puffs of smoke.

"The Headmaster's Office," said Harry. "All these things were Dumbledore's."

"What are they all for?" she asked, letting Harry's hand go and walking slowly around the circular room.

"I know as much as you about these things," he said, looking around. "And I don't think that anybody knows any more than you and me about this stuff-"

"Speak for yourself," a nasty voice said from the other side of the room.

Harry walked towards the source of the voice. There was nobody there, but Harry knew where to look.

"Phineas Nigellus," said Harry to a portrait.

"Well, well, well, Potter," answered the small wizard in the picture. "I started to miss your presence in this room."

"Really? I wasn't missing you, though," said Harry rudely.

"How dare you? When I was Headmaster-"

"I know, I know," said Harry waving a hand in front of him. "Nobody would have dared to speak to you like that. Shame you're not the Headmaster here anymore, and haven't been for a _long_ time," he added, smirking.

Phineas Nigellus glared at him. In the meantime, Hermione got closer to Harry and started to listen to the conversation, interested.

"And what are looking at?" Nigellus snarled at her.

Harry opened his mouth for screaming some insult back to him, but someone was faster than he was.

"Oh, close your mouth, you fool," said a woman's voice.

Harry thought the voice sounded vaguely familiar, and when he turned his head to face the portrait the voice had come from, he understood why.

"Professor McGonagall," he said, chuckling.

"It took a lot for you to pay a visit, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, smiling thinly from her painting.

"P-professor McGonagall," repeated Harry.

But Professor McGonagall wasn't looking at him anymore. "This cannot be," she whispered, staring at Hermione. "You should be dead."

Hermione smiled shyly. "W-well, I'm not," she stammered shyly.

"How can this be possible?" Professor McGonagall asked Harry, trying to sit up in her chair to get a better look at Hermione.

"I don't know," answered Harry, recovering from the shock of speaking to the dead Headmistress.

"You don't know?" she asked, bemused. "Didn't you ask her?"

"Nope, I couldn't."

"You couldn't?"

"No, she's the victim of a Memory Charm," said Harry matter-of-factly.

Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione. "I saw you on the Battle Ground. You should be dead."

Hermione shrugged, looking down.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "If only Albus would have been here, we-"

"What?" exclaimed Harry. He had totally forgotten that there was a portrait of Dumbledore too in that room, since Harry's sixth year.

"I was saying," said McGonagall stiffly, "that if only Albus would have been he-"

"What are you talking about? He must be here," said Harry, looking around to find Dumbledore's portrait.

"Potter," McGonagall called him.

"I know that he's in this area-" said Harry, looking at the wall where Professor McGonagall was hung up.

"Potter." Professor McGonagall's voice became louder.

"-I saw him since the end of my sixth year," continued Harry without looking at her.

"Potter!" McGonagall shouted

Harry finally faced Professor McGonagall again. "Sorry Professor, what were you saying?" he asked.

"Potter," she said, her voice back to normal. "Professor Dumbledore's portrait is no longer here, not since the Last Battle."

"What? Why? Don't tell me that Voldemort-"

"What? Oh, no, no. You-Know-Who doesn't have anything to do with Albus' portrait," said Professor McGonagall quickly.

"Then, who-?"

"It was me," said McGonagall unexpectedly.

"What?" Harry understood less with every moment.

"It was my fault," she said blankly. "Albus asked me to take his portrait on the field. He wanted to witness the death of You-Know-Who. He wanted to be sure that this time he was really gone."

"Was his portrait destroyed?" asked Harry, fearing the worst.

"I don't know," said Professor McGonagall. "I tried to protect him with all my strength, and I was killed while I was covering him with my body."

"Oh," was all Harry could manage to say.

"That's terrible," said Hermione.

Armando Dippet looked at her from his portrait. "Terrible? On the contrary, my dear girl, I would say that it is wonderful."

"What?" asked Hermione without understanding.

"She gave her life for protecting his portrait. If that isn't love, I don't know what is," he said warmly.

"Oh, Armando," said McGonagall. "Anyone would have done that."

"Oh, yes, of course," said Dippet unconvincingly.

"So," Harry interrupted, "Dumbledore's portrait is gone."

"I don't know," repeated Professor McGonagall.

"If it was there on the Battle Field, then it must have been destroyed; everything was destroyed," said Harry despairingly.

"Oh, that's what I thought, too," said McGonagall. "Before I saw Miss Granger here." She nodded towards Hermione.

Harry seemed to think hard on these words.

"Aren't you wondering why she's still alive?" asked Dippet.

"Every moment of every day," said Harry seriously, flashing Hermione a quick smile.

Hermione felt something in her stomach, like butterflies, at the idea that Harry thought about her 'every moment of every day'.

"_Ah, Miss Granger, you really are the cleverest witch of your age."_

Hermione turned her head, but couldn't understand which portrait had spoken to her.

"Hermione?"

She looked at Harry with a startled expression. "Yes?"

"Are you okay? You look strange," asked Harry, concerned.

"I'm fine, it's just that – never mind," she said, shaking her head.

Harry looked at her. "If you're sure," he said, unconvinced.

"I am," she smiled.

"Well." Harry turned his face towards Professor McGonagall again. "Our next stage is the ground where the Last Battle was fought, so if Dumbledore's portrait is still there, maybe we'll find it."

"Why are you going back to that place?" asked Professor McGonagall, worried.

Harry took a deep breath and started to explain what had happened to him – to both of them – in the last three days. When he finished, Professor McGonagall was wearing a horrified expression on her face. "And you think that she'll recover her memory just walking around places like Hogwarts?"

"It doesn't hurt to try, does it?" said Harry, shrugging his shoulders.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "No, I suppose it doesn't."

"When are you leaving?" asked Armando Dippet.

"I don't know, but as soon as possible," answered Harry.

"Why? Filch hasn't been kind to you?" asked Phineas Nigellus maliciously.

Everybody ignored him.

"How are you going there?" asked Professor McGonagall.

"We used the Weasley's flying car for getting to Hogsmeade. I think that we can use it to get to the Last Battle Field too," said Harry.

"Why don't you use another way to get there?"

"I'm pretty tired of walking, and getting to where we fought the Last Battle is quite a long walk," Harry pointed out.

"Oh, of course it is," said Armando Dippet quickly. " But we were thinking about something else."

Harry looked at Professor Dippet first and then at Professor McGonagall, with no clues of what they were talking about.

"Minerva, will you explain to him, please?" said Dippet.

"Of course, Armando," replied McGonagall. "Potter, will you please open that cupboard?"

Harry stepped towards the cupboard and opened it.

"Now, can you see that silver teapot?"

Harry nodded.

"It's a Portkey. It is directly connected to the Trotternish peninsula, also known as the Last Battle Field," explained Professor McGonagall.

"Why there would be a Portkey that connects Hogwarts to the Last Battle Field?" asked Harry, confused.

"I created it," answered the portrait of Professor McGonagall. "I needed a way to get there with Albus' portrait and without being seen. Can you remember, Potter? Death Eaters were everywhere."

Harry nodded. "That's great; we'll be there sooner than I expected."

Minerva McGonagall and Armando Dippet nodded and smiled, while Phineas Nigellus just snorted from his portrait.

"I think we can leave tomorrow," he said, then he turned towards Hermione.

"Don't you want to have a shower and eat something?" he asked her.

"Yeah, I think I definitely do," she said, nodding.

"Let's go back to the Gryffindor Tower, then – Ah, Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Thank you very much," he said, smiling.

"Yes, thank you," repeated Hermione behind him.

"You're welcome," answered Professor McGonagall, feeling happy for being helpful and seeing two of her former students again.

They climbed down the stairs from Dumbledore's office, walked up the hallways, passed in front of several portraits that looked at them curiously and went through the hole behind the Fat Lady.

They both took a shower, changed their clothes, and ate fish and chips in the Gryffindor Common Room. When Harry had Vanished the empty plates, Hermione looked at him and opened her mouth to say something, but she looked like she thought she wouldn't at the last moment. Harry didn't notice, however.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"What about sleeping?" asked Hermione, yawning.

"I reckon that's another brilliant idea of yours, Miss Granger," said Harry, yawning too. "We can sleep in the Boys' Dorm," he said, getting up.

"Aren't you forgetting something? I can't come in, I'm a girl," said Hermione.

"What? Oh, no, no, you can come in, the charm is only on the Girls' Dorm," said Harry, climbing the stairs to his old Dorm.

"Really? Why?" asked Hermione, following him.

"That's funny," said Harry. "Once Ron asked you the same thing. You said something about girls being more trustworthy, or something like that."

Hermione laughed. Harry couldn't help smiling as well.

They climbed the staircase till the Dorm on the top. "Sorry for all the stairs, we could have stopped at the first door, but I wanted to see my old bedroom," he said, opening the door on which there was the writing 'Sixth Years' in golden letters.

They entered, and Harry felt the odd sensation of being transported back in time. It was exactly as he remembered.

He sat down on the four poster bed that once was his and looked around.

Hermione sat down on Ron's bed. "I think I'll lie here."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"I don't know, I like the view from here," said Hermione absently.

Harry nodded and laid down on his own bed.

"I like Hogwarts," said Hermione, looking at the ceiling.

"I like it too," said Harry, smiling.

"Harry, when I recover from this Memory Charm, can we come and live here?" she asked unexpectedly.

Harry looked at her. "I don't know, I mean, now there's only Filch, but maybe in the future it can be a school again," he said uncertainly.

"I understand, it was just a thought," she said, turning on her other side and showing Harry her back.

"But Hermione, there are so many places where we can live in peace around here," he said quickly.

"We?" Hermione was smiling brightly when she turned her head to face Harry.

"Yeah," said Harry, blushing a little. "We."

Hermione turned on her back. "Good night, Harry," she said, closing her eyes.

"Good night, Hermione," Harry whispered back.

When they woke up the next morning, Harry and Hermione had their breakfast while they were still in bed. Then Hermione insisted on saying goodbye to Filch. And, at the end, they climbed the stairs to Dumbledore's office, where Harry swore to Professor McGonagall that they would bring back Professor Dumbledore's portrait if it was still intact.

Then they reached for the teapot in the cupboard.

"At the count of three, we'll touch it and we'll be transported to the Last Battle Field, okay Hermione?"

"Okay," she said, smiling nervously.

"One."

Harry took Hermione's hand.

"Two."

They raised their hands.

"Three."

They touched the Portkey and felt a great force, like a hook being pulled just behind their navel.

The only thought Hermione had time for before the Headmaster's Office disappeared from her sight was, 'Fourth Stage: The Last Battle Field.'


	12. Fourth Stage: the Last Battle Field

Disclaimer: Nope, nope, not mine…

A/N: Oh! Can you believe another update? Found a good beta-reader, didn't I? Well, I don't know if I've already told you this, but this story can be ideally divided in three parts. From chapter one to chapter seven, from chapter eight to chapter twelve and the last three chapters. Well, this is the last chapter of the second part, and next one is my favourite; I can't seriously wait to post it. Anyway, sorry for the cliffy end of this chapter, but you know that I love them… Oh, well, enjoy the chappie my faithful readers. Hope you'll like it!

To Danii: Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter.

**Fourth Stage: The Last Battle Field**

Hermione fell on Harry's back.

"Ouch."

"Sorry, Harry," said Hermione, getting to her feet and helping him up.

"It's okay," he said, rubbing his back.

"Wow, that thing was powerful," exclaimed Hermione. "My finger was stuck to it," she added, nodding towards the silver teapot.

"Yeah, well, that's how Portkeys work," said Harry knowingly.

Hermione nodded distractedly. "Harry, this place is wonderful," she exclaimed, looking around.

Harry glanced around. They were in the middle of a great green lowland. Some huge rocks stood here and there, and small paths climbed the mountains at the sides of the plain. The weak noise of the sea revealed that they were near the coast. A golden eagle flew overhead, cawing.

"Is this the right place?" asked Hermione, unsure.

"Yeah, it is," said Harry, putting the Portkey in his backpack. "But it's just so different from when I saw it last."

"Really? Why?"

"Because the last time I saw it, it was covered with corpses," said Harry grimly.

Hermione brought her hands to her mouth, horrified. "That's horrible," she whispered.

Harry looked at her and smiled. "Well, I didn't see it very well. I looked around for only a couple of seconds before I passed out after defeating Voldemort."

"You passed out?" she asked caringly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and if I have to tell you the truth, that was the best thing that happened to me that day."

"Oh, Harry why don't you tell me what happened?" she asked imploringly.

Harry looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Because there's nothing to tell," he replied harshly.

"I don't think so," she said shyly. "Maybe if you tell me, that will help both you and me."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "I have no problems. How would it help me?"

"I can help you to bear that weight."

"Hermione, I don't know what you are talking about," said Harry sharply.

"Harry, you told me everything about the Burrow, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts and all our friends, but you have never mentioned this part of our lives," she said, looking at him.

"Which part?"

"The Last Battle," whispered Hermione.

"Because-there-is-nothing-to-tell," he said through clenched teeth, stressing every word.

"Harry, if you don't want to do this for you, do it for me, please," she said pleadingly.

Harry looked away and walked past her. "We should move on, I don't want to stay here all day," he said, bringing their dialogue to an end in a tone of voice brooking no argument.

Hermione followed him noiselessly while he guided her through the wonderful landscape. There were no signs a battle had taken place here; everything was perfect. A perfect place to pass a secluded, restful holiday.

"Harry?" Hermione called him uncertainly after his outburst.

"Yeah?" answered Harry, half turning his face towards her.

"Why are there no signs of the Battle?"

"Because the Ministry of Magic cleaned everything up the week after the Battle," he said, continuing on. "Can you remember anything?" he asked her abruptly.

"No," she answered, taken aback by his curt tone of voice.

They walked without speaking for a good hour before Hermione broke the silence again.

"I don't think we're going to find anything here," she offered hesitantly.

"This place is huge, and we've only seen a little part of it," said Harry without even turning around.

'This Battle must have been even more terrible than I thought,' thought Hermione. 'To change Harry's mood so suddenly like this.'

"Are we looking for some place in particular?"

"Yes, we are," said Harry. "And if you would please stop talking for a moment, I'm trying to concentrate."

Hermione stopped. What she had felt yesterday in the pit of her stomach was no longer there. Now, she felt only a piercing pain through her heart.

Harry turned his head when he didn't hear Hermione's steps behind him.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked her harshly.

"What's wrong with me?" asked Hermione, desperately trying to hold back her tears. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you!"

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"I wouldn't say that," she said, almost crying.

"Oh, stop it," said Harry, dismissing her tears with a wave of his hand. "You don't know what it was like for me that night, and I would have never come back here if it wasn't for you."

"Strange, I thought that nothing happened that night," said Hermione sharply, throttling down her tears.

Harry glared at her. "How can you say these things? I'm doing everything for you and-"

"And why you are doing everything for me? Because you just want to know how I survived, or because you care for me?" She was looking at him, half in anger, half in misery.

Harry stood there for a minute without speaking, upset. He had to admit to himself that his first thought was that if Hermione was still alive, maybe Ginny and Ron had survived too. But now there was something else. He had started to feel something that he thought he would have never felt towards Hermione.

"Well?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry looked at he. "Well, what?" he asked, a little bit more rudely than he meant to.

"I asked you something."

"And there's no need for me to answer. You know why I'm doing all this."

"I thought I knew why, but now I'm not sure anymore," she said, looking at him with pain filled eyes.

"Okay, if you think that I don't care about you," he said, taking off his backpack. "We can go back right now." He pulled out the Portkey.

Hermione looked intently at him, thousands of emotions passing through her: anger, fear, guilt, and more she could never explain.

"No," she said slowly. "No, it's okay."

Harry looked at her and threw the Portkey back into his backpack. Without a word, he turned and started to walk.

Hermione followed a few feet behind him.

The sky was getting cloudy above their heads, and a cold wind started to blow around them.

"It's going to rain," said Harry absently. "If we don't find a shelter, we'll come back to Hogwarts with the Portkey," he added, in a tone of voice that didn't invite a reply.

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders, and looked around so she wouldn't have to stare at Harry's stiff back.

"Harry," she suddenly exclaimed, stopping.

"What?"

"Look," she said, pointing to her right.

Far away, in the middle of nothing, there was a small, shabby-looking hut. Harry couldn't remember anything like that being there the last time he had been here.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know, I've never seen it," answered Harry, shrugging.

"Let's go and have a look," said Hermione.

"It doesn't look like anything interesting to me," answered Harry.

"Well, let's just have a look, please," said Hermione. "Maybe we can go in and protect ourselves from the rain that's going to fall."

Harry would have loved to say 'no' just for fun, but Hermione was right after all. It _was_ going to rain, and he himself had just said they needed shelter.

"Just a look around," said Harry, heading towards the hut that looked a lot like Hagrid's.

Hermione followed him, rather happy to have convinced him to do something that she wanted to do.

The nearer they got, the better they were able to see the hut. It was circular, with a wooden door and a couple of boarded windows.

"Harry, look at the door," said Hermione, pointing at it.

Harry looked at the entrance. A yellow piece of parchment was hung on it. He got closer, and read the note on it aloud.

"Warning! Do not enter. Property of the Minister of Magic."

Harry snorted derisively, and stepped back, pointing his wand at the keyhole.

"Alohomora," he said out loud.

The door opened in front of them.

"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Hermione, seizing him by the arm. "There's a 'don't enter' sign on the door."

"Yeah, well, I've never taken Ministry of Magic signs very seriously," he said, entering.

Hermione followed him so closely that when Harry stopped, she almost bumped into him.

Inside, it was just too dark to distinguish anything.

"Lumos."

Harry's wand lit and showed a narrow space filled with items.

Harry looked around. "Hermione, do you know what kind of place this is?"

Hermione shook her head while she was looking around.

"I do."

"Do you? It looks almost like a store," she said uncertainly.

"Well, almost," said Harry, trying to illuminate every single space of the hut. "I told you that when the Battle was over, the Ministry of Magic sent people to clear up the place and give an appropriate burial to all the people that died there."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, they stored everything they found in here," said Harry, looking around.

Hermione seemed horrified. "And the bodies? Where did they put the bodies?"

"Oh, not here, don't worry," said Harry quickly. "They were buried in the Isle of Drear – now that there are no more Quintapeds."

"No more – what?"

"Never mind," said Harry nonchalantly. "Let's find something to light up this place."

"These, for example?" asked Hermione, holding up a handful of candles.

"Perfect," said Harry, lighting them and making them fly over their heads with his wand.

The light was quite dim, but finally they managed to have a better look at the hut. It was bigger than it seemed; actually, it was too much big for what they'd seen outside. It must have been enchanted, like the Weasleys' car. There was a big bed, a basin, and a table with a couple of chairs, but almost all the space was taken up with big trunks. On each trunk, there was a small piece of parchment with a label on it. One said 'Wands', another one 'Crystal Balls', another 'Clocks' and so on. Every trunk contained different items, each of them found after the Last Battle on the field.

"Look, Harry." Hermione was holding a long piece of parchment in her hand. She handed it to Harry. He looked at it, and saw it was a long list of names.

"Count of the victims on the Field of the Last Battle," Hermione read the title.

Harry glanced quickly towards all the names, searching for names that he knew.

Creevey, Colin. Death.

Finnigan, Seamus. Death.

Goyle, Gregory. Death.

Granger, Hermione. Not found.

McGonagall, Minerva. Death.

Malfoy, Draco. Death.

When he reached the bottom of the list there were at least twenty people with the same surname.

Weasley, Arthur. Death.

Weasley, Bill. Death.

Weasley, Charlie. Death.

Weasley, Delacour Fleur. Death.

Weasley, Fred. Death.

Weasley, Ginevra. Death.

Weasley, George. Death.

Weasley, Molly. Death.

Weasley, Percy. Death.

Weasley, Ronald. Death.

Harry threw away the parchment in anger. "That piece of rubbish doesn't say anything new."

Then he had an idea and, picking up the parchment again, he checked the list another time.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione carefully.

"Searching," answered Harry, without looking at her.

"Searching for what, if I may ask," asked Hermione shyly.

Harry showed her the list. "Look, you have a 'not found' next to your name. I'm searching other names with it next to them."

But after checking the list twice, he threw it away again. "Nobody else was 'not found'," he said, looking at Hermione. "Only you. Why?"

Hermione felt really uncomfortable at that very moment. Harry was looking at her like he was waiting for an answer, but Hermione didn't have one.

"I-I don't know," she stammered.

"No, of course you don't," said Harry bitterly, sitting on the bed and putting his head in his hands.

Hermione stepped towards him uncertainly, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, sitting down next to him.

"Harry, tell me about the Battle," she whispered into his ear.

Harry lowered his hands and looked at her. "Hermione," he whispered pleadingly.

She smiled encouragingly.

"Okay, but I have to tell you that it won't be easy for me to tell and it won't be easy for you to listen to either," he said, looking blankly in front of him.

Then he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, ready to recall the last moments of life for all his friends and enemies.


	13. Revelations

Disclaimer: Come on, if I were J.K.R. I wouldn't have let Dumbledore die, would I? Nope, surely not.

A/N: Oh my, my favourite chapter is up. It feels so strange, and I want to say a couple of words about this chapter, or better the second part of it. When I made it read to my friends they told me quite a lot of things: a couple of people said that I was a pervert, one said that it was quite well written (well, they don't have a great knowledge of English), another one said that it was nice and the last one said that it was sweet. I really, really, really hope that you'll find it sweet. I'm afraid that you'll think it's quite pathetic, though. Anyway, I hate to beg for reviews, but I don't think that it'll be like begging if I ask you to tell me what do you think about it, it's very important for me; because it's the first time that I try to write a graphic scene. Anyway, you will notice that both Harry and Hermione don't speak at all (I mean in the second part, obviously), that's my choice, I wanted it like this. Well, as a last thing, sorry for the cliffy end (again), and enjoy the chapter!

To Danii: What would I do without you? Thanks a lot for beta-reading this chapter.

**Revelations**

"The truth, Hermione, is that I don't know where to start," whispered Harry.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?" she asked softly, standing up from the bed and sitting down on a chair in front of Harry.

"Yeah, you're right," he said, looking his hands. "Well, Hermione you have to know that in these last five years, Voldemort had become the most powerful wizard in Britain, or better in the world. He had many and many followers everywhere, even where you wouldn't ever have expected them. In the Ministry of Magic, for example, or at Hogwarts.

"He used to kill all the people that stood between him and the power. Their age, gender or social position didn't matter; he just destroyed all the obstacles that he found in his path. In the last years, he had power over almost everyone. In the Wizarding world there was only chaos and fear.

"But luckily, there were some people that stood there against him. I was one of them, but you were one too. We were Aurors. Ron, Ginny, Tonks, and lots of other brave people were trying to defeat Voldemort in every way imaginable.

"But there was always something that we seemed to miss. Voldemort was always a step in front of us. The only thing we succeeded in was the destruction of the Horcruxes. A year ago, we destroyed the last one.

"The only thing to do then was to kill Voldemort. But we didn't find the right opportunity since last April." He paused for a second, searching for the right words in his head.

"It's hard to believe, but it was Malfoy who allowed us to find Voldemort. He didn't do it on purpose – well, he did, but anyway, his deed led up to all the happened next.

"Once, he spoke too much, and we too had some spies in Voldemort's gang of followers, the Death Eaters. We acquired the knowledge of a meeting, a secret meeting. We didn't know why, or what it was for, but we knew that a huge amount of Death Eaters and Voldemort himself would be here in this place.

"That was our chance, far away from everybody and everything. We could use all the spells that we knew, even the most destructive ones, because there was nobody we cared for here.

"The nearest village is miles far away from here. No Muggles and no wizards or witches. Just us and the Death Eaters. Nobody except ourselves would have paid the consequences.

"Well, we made a mistake," said Harry bitterly.

Outside, the rain started to fall softly. Their shadows were trembling under the light of the enchanted candles.

"Everybody got here by himself, or herself. We didn't want an entirely wizard community moving all in the same way; Voldemort would have noticed; so we used Portkeys, some of us Apparated, some of the others used Floo Powder to get to the nearest fireplaces here, and so on.

"Everybody thought that I should be the leader in the operation. I would have been very happy to leave that 'honour' to someone else, but nobody accepted that. The lives of hundreds of people were in my hands.

"Yeah, hundreds. The rumour that there was an anti-Voldemort operation spread quickly between wizards and witches all over Great Britain and many people joined us in the Battle.

"Unfortunately, our surprise attack was spoiled. But we didn't know that. I brought all those people to the place of their death. You can't even imagine what I would give, Hermione, for not being the one that guided all those people to their grave," he said bleakly to her.

Hermione brought her hands to her mouth. "Oh, Harry why didn't you tell them?"

"I did tell them, but, as I've already said, nobody accepted my dismissal. I was there, and one false step and all those people would have died.

"We had done lots of tours of reconnaissance, and we knew the place quite well. We had planned everything.

"The night before that terrible day we, Ron, you and I, were all sitting together in Ron's room at the Burrow. We would have Apparated the next day half a mile far from here, and then we would have walked to this place. All the other Weasleys were already there.

"I can remember our last night together so clearly. Ron and I were talking about Quidditch, and you were saying you couldn't believe that in a moment like that, all we were able to think about was a stupid game. We ended up talking about our years at Hogwarts and all the things that we'd passed together. None of us wanted to go to bed, too afraid of waking up the next morning. But finally, each of us headed to his own room – no wait. I headed for my room; I can remember that you left Ron's bedroom after me. I don't know why, I just remember that he held you back before you went out.

"Anyway, next morning we Apparated there and walked to the field. We surrounded the Death Eaters. They were so many, that for a moment, I thought that it was all a mistake. But everybody was ready, and just waiting for my signal to attack.

"The signal was green sparks from my wand. I would have preferred to be somewhere else, any place would have been perfect, but not that place. You had to elbow me twice to make me send up the signal.

"And after that I sent it, I lost track of everybody," said Harry, his voice almost a whisper. He was trying to fight back the tears, but it became more difficult with every word he said.

Hermione was looking at him horrified, and sometimes she let out small shrieks or brought her hands to her mouth.

"I heard spells fly here and there, and some Unforgivable Curses missed me by inches. I saw lots of brave people falling under the Death Eaters' curses, but luckily some of Voldemort's followers lay motionless on the ground as well.

"I saw Fleur fight against Lucius Malfoy, but I didn't stop to help her, I had to find Voldemort." Harry's words were coming faster, and the look on his face was agitated and upset.

"I found him, he was looking at the carnage and he was enjoying it. When he became aware of my presence, he smirked evilly.

"He told me that he was waiting for me. He told me that it was a trap, he told me that he fooled me. Malfoy knew perfectly well what he was doing, when he'd said those things. I'd led all those people into a fatal trap.

"I was out of my mind with rage, and without even thinking about what I was doing, I attacked him."

Harry looked at Hermione; he was shaking slightly and tears were pouring down his cheeks.

"I didn't know what to do, Hermione." Now he was crying loudly. "I didn't know. I attacked him because I was blinded by my anger. If I hadn't done that maybe all these people," he pointed at the parchment with the list of names on it, "would still be alive.

"But all I wanted to do was kill him, and make him feel all the pain that he'd inflicted on other people. I used an Unforgivable curse on him. I used the Avada Kedavra against him.

"But he used it against me exactly two seconds after I shouted 'Avada Kedavra'. But our wands were 'brothers' and they connected like they had already done, but this time, something terrible happened.

"The Avada Kedavra spell spread his power all around us, and the entire Magical community of Great Britain and Ireland had been swept from the Earth. Only the people that were in some kind of protected shelter survived, like Fudge in the Ministry of Magic.

"But everybody else had been wiped away, destroyed, killed," cried Harry. He was gesticulating nervously, and wore an upset expression.

Harry raised his tee-shirt quickly. "Look at this scar," he said, pointing at the bolt-shape near his heart. "That's all he left on me, just like the first time." Pulling down the tee-shirt, he indicated his forehead.

Hermione didn't know what to do or say. She was the one who had begged him to tell what had happened, and now she felt like it was her fault that Harry was so hurt.

"Hermione, it was all my fault," said Harry, unexpectedly taking his head between his hands. "All my fault. I killed off all those people. I killed all the people that I loved, all the people that meant something to me."

He looked at her with his eyes full of tears. "I killed all my friends."

"Harry, no, you didn't-"

"Oh yes, Hermione, I killed them," said Harry, cutting her off. "I did it. And you know what I have been dreaming about every night since that very moment? Do you know?" he said, standing up, seizing her shoulders and shaking her furiously.

Hermione shook her head, afraid. Harry let her go when he saw that he was scaring her.

"No, of course you don't," he said bitterly, sitting again on the bed. "I've dreamed of all my friends asking me not to kill them. Every single night, they beg me for their lives and I stand there without being able to do anything."

"Harry-"

"I killed them, Hermione," shouted Harry again, crying and shaking furiously. "I killed them all, I killed them. It was all my-"

But he didn't finish the sentence.

Hermione threw herself towards him, she had put her arms around his neck, and now she kissed him.

Harry, taken aback by Hermione's reaction, took a little to realise what was happening. His body slowly stopped to shake. His tears stopped falling down his cheeks. His heart started to beat furiously in his chest.

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Slowly, he placed his hands on her back and hugged her to him.

After what seemed ages to Harry, Hermione slowly moved away from him. Her face was torn between fear and pleasure.

"Harry, I-I'm s-sorr-"

Harry put a finger on her lips. "Shhh," he whispered.

He got up from the bed and hugged her tightly. Hermione hugged him back. He buried his face in her neck, under her hair. Then, slowly, he started to kiss her neck. Hermione moaned softly. He moved away her shirt and her bra strap and kissed her shoulder. She was soft and warm, and her skin was white and flawless.

Hermione's heart beat faster. Harry's lips on her naked skin were such a great sensation.

While Harry was kissing her shoulder, she felt his fingers fidgeting around her shirt's buttons. He slipped them slowly out of their holes, and when he reached the last one, he raised his head and looked at Hermione.

Maybe it was the candlelight, but she looked beautiful.

He grazed Hermione's naked stomach with the tops of his fingers, then he slowly went up to her bra and reached the shoulders. He opened his hands on them and slid them down her back, causing the shirt to slip down from her shoulders and fall to the floor.

Hermione shivered with pleasure.

Then she put her hands on Harry's stomach, under his tee-shirt and deliberately slid her hands up his chest as slowly as she could. Harry raised his arms above his head and Hermione slipped his tee-shirt off, and it fell on the floor near her shirt.

They looked at each other, both breathless.

Then Harry recovered and kneeled in front of Hermione. He kissed her belly while he was opening the fastener of her jeans. Hermione hold her breath.

Harry put his hands on her waist and pulled down her jeans, leaving her in bra and knickers in front of him. Hermione moved away the jeans with her foot and the pair of trainers that she had the shrewdness to take off.

Harry looked at every inch of her body. There were still some wounds, reminder of that merchant, but to Harry she was perfect.

Harry stood up and took off his trainers. Hermione got closer to him and opened his zipper as well. She lingered a bit on his lower belly, and finally she made his jeans fall to the floor.

Hermione looked at him. He stood in front of her wearing only a pair of boxers.

Then he came nearer to Hermione and hugged her to him. Hermione placed her arms around his neck. Slowly she felt his arms raising her from the floor. Seconds later, she was lying on her back on the bed. Harry was at her side.

Harry freed her from her bra and made it fall near their other clothes. He looked at her for a very long moment, then he bent down over her breasts and kissed them softly.

Hermione's breath sped up, while Harry's hand caressed her stomach delicately. When he reached her knickers' band he played with them for a while before slipping them off of her.

Hermione moaned as she felt her knickers reaching her feet and falling on the floor. Then she stretched her hand, making her way towards Harry's boxers and eased them down on Harry's legs.

Harry climbed over her naked body and penetrated her gently. He went up and down on her body. Their breaths became deeper and faster. Their faces coloured. Their hearts started to beat in time.

Hermione felt the stars of the sky shining inside of her. Harry's movements faded away and his breath came slowly to normality as he reached the climax too.

He leaned down next to her and embraced her naked body with his arms. She closed her eyes and listened to her heart; she had butterflies in her stomach and thought that she had never been happier.

She was wrong. Because when Harry leaned down and whispered in her ear, "I love you," she felt that she could have walked on air.

And then.

Suddenly.

The pain began.


	14. All Love Can Be

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, J.K.R. does. And I don't own the title of this chapter either, Charlotte Church does.

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I had to resist an entire week without internet, and since I'm an internet-addict, it has been hard. Anyway, this chapter is what you all are waiting for (okay, if you were waiting for sex, then you have already had that…): some good explanations. I love this chapter and I really hope that you'll like it as well, sorry, you are right the last cliffy was really mean and I feel terribly knowing that you had to wait so much for this chapter. Oh, my! Who read my previous stories knows that I always name a chapter after a song, and so, here you are! I love this song and I think that it suits perfectly well the chapter, don't you think? Well, anyway next chapter will be the last one, I'm sad, but don't worry Harry and Hermione's adventures are not yet finished. Lol and enjoy the chapter.

To Danii: Thanks so much for beta-reading this chapter, and for all your nice comments.

**All Love Can Be**

Hermione felt a piercing pain through her head and saw a pool of light. Harry's eyes widened when he heard her scream. He moved his arm away from her and rose on his elbow to look at her.

She brought her hands to her temples, shaking furiously, her naked body covered with sweat.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" asked Harry, panicking.

Hermione didn't answer. She didn't even seem aware of the fact Harry was there. She screamed again and kicked the air with her feet.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" Harry repeated, seizing her shoulder.

Hermione freed herself from his grip and fell on her hands and knees on the floor.

Harry jumped down next to her. His first instinct was to put his boxers back on, then he bent over her.

"Hermione," he said, trying to embrace her.

"NO," cried Hermione, sitting on her heels and pulling away from him. Harry noticed that her eyes were moving quickly, like she could see something that Harry wasn't able to.

"MALFOY," she yelled suddenly, her face struck with fear, great fear. "NO, RON, NO!" she said, looking, horrified, in front of her. She stretched her arms to catch something, but she just grasped air.

Then she started to scream again from the pain and held her head between her hands. She fell on her back on the floor and started to shake even more furiously than before.

After several minutes her screams faded, but her body kept shaking. Harry stood next to her without having a clue as to what was going on.

Finally Hermione seemed to calm down. Her body relaxed for a second and then she started to cry softly.

Harry stretched a hand over her head, but didn't touch her. "Hermione," he whispered.

To his surprise, Hermione looked at him with her eyes full of tears. "Harry," she whispered back, stretching her arms towards him.

Harry bent down and hugged her tightly.

"Harry," she repeated between tears. "Harry."

"I'm here, Hermione," he said, caressing her hair.

"Harry, don't let me go," she said, crying.

"I won't," he whispered into her ear.

Harry took her in his arms, raised her off the floor, and placed her gently on the bed. She was so cold that Harry decided it was better if she got dressed, as well as him.

He quickly put on his jeans and tee shirt, and then helped her to get dressed. She looked at him blankly as he put her knickers on and fastened her bra on her. But she seemed to recover a little when Harry raised her from the bed to pull the jeans up.

He was closing her shirt's buttons when she spoke. "He asked me to marry him," her voice barely audible.

Harry looked at her, bemused. "What?" he asked, not understanding.

"He asked me to marry him," repeated Hermione simply.

"Who?" asked Harry, looking into her eyes.

"Ron," she answered in a broken voice.

Harry looked at her with wide eyes.

"I remember, Harry," she said blankly. "I remember everything."

What followed was an intense moment of silence. The only noise was the patter of rain on the roof of the hut. They stood together, but it was like they didn't see each other. Both of them were lost too deeply in their thoughts.

Harry couldn't believe her memory had actually come back, and all of a sudden, with no evident reason.

Hermione now had to deal with twenty-four years of memories, and a bunch of feelings that, all together, would have driven anybody else crazy.

Harry had waited for this moment since the first time he'd found her four days before, but now he was unsure of what he should do. Luckily, it was Hermione that broke the silence first.

"You were right, Harry," she said miserably.

"W-was I?" he asked uncertainly.

"Yes. Now that I remember everything, I just want to forget," she said, starting to cry again.

Harry moved towards her and hugged her. "No, Hermione, don't say that."

She hugged him back. "Harry, it's so hard. I don't know if I'm strong enough for bearing all these feelings, all this pain, all alone."

"You are not alone, Hermione. We'll bear it together," said Harry lovingly.

When Harry let her go, she had calmed down a bit. He looked into her eyes. Her beautiful chocolate eyes.

"Did Ron really ask you to marry him?" he asked her.

Hermione nodded. "The night before the Last Battle, when he held me back in his room. He knelt in front of me and said that he had no ring, but only all his love. He said that he loved me so much that he simply couldn't live without me," said Hermione, trying to fight back her tears.

"W-what did you say?" stammered Harry, his voice breaking. There was something strange about what he was feeling at the bottom of his heart; he was jealous. 'But that's absolutely out of place, because of the moment that Hermione and I just shared and because Ron's dead,' he thought, and guiltiness took the place of jealousy.

"I said yes. What else could I have done? I loved him," she said while a tear trickled down her cheek.

Harry couldn't answer nor move.

"Harry, I don't – can you hear that?" She sat up, her face contorted with the effort of listening.

Harry looked around. "What? Hermione, don't tell me that you still hear those voices." There was some concern in his voice.

"Actually, Harry, I can remember that _Ron and I_ believed you when you said that you heard that voice in our second year. Anyway, this is different, listen!" she said, her voice still shaky as she wiped away some tears with the back of her hand.

Harry sighed and tried to listen. The rain had stopped falling, so the hut was in deep silence.

Then, he suddenly heard it. It was a male voice, but it was barely audible or better, it was almost like the voice was muffled, as if the man was inside a trunk.

"Excuse me, is there someone in there?" The voice sounded familiar though.

"Y-yes," said Harry uncertainly.

"Excuse me, is anybody there?" asked the voice again, a little bit louder.

"Where are you?" called Hermione, looking around.

"Excuse me, are you there?" Evidently the person couldn't hear them.

"Hermione, let's try to find where it's coming from," said Harry, looking around.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Are you there?"

They both turned towards the second window to the right. Underneath it, there was a big trunk.

Harry kneeled down and placed his ear to the lid, and heard the voice distinctly coming from there, saying, "Can you hear me?"

Harry looked at the piece of parchment on the trunk. It said 'Various Things'.

He opened it and inhaled a bunch of dust.

"Harry, are you okay?" asked Hermione, kneeling next to him and patting his back gently as he coughed loudly.

"Yeah," he said with a last cough.

They looked inside the trunk at the same time. It was filled with absolutely useless things, like Gobstones, pieces from Wizarding chess, Dungbombs and some pieces of parchment.

"H-hello?" said Harry, looking into the trunk.

"Oh, finally, somebody found me!" said the voice.

"Where are you?" asked Hermione.

"Under a very dusty piece of parchment and an impolite Queen," said the man practically.

Harry moved the parchments carefully; the Queen was a piece of a Wizarding chess set that didn't have any intention of going anywhere.

Harry had to pick her up and throw her out of the trunk, then he also picked out a dusty piece of parchment.

"Ah, finally, I can see again," said an old man in a portrait.

Harry picked it up and took him under the light of the candles. Both he and Hermione were speechless.

"Harry, what an absolute pleasure to see you," said Dumbledore from his painting, setting down his spectacles, "Oh, and Miss Granger," he said, looking at her.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Harry with the portrait in his hands, "What were you doing inside that trunk?"

"Oh," said Dumbledore, smiling. "That's a really funny story if I have to tell you, but I want you to answer some questions before I do," he said cheerfully.

"Yes, of course, Headmaster," said Hermione promptly while she and Harry stepped towards the table and put Dumbledore's portrait on it.

"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore as he hit the surface. "Ah, Harry, I've waited for somebody to tell me what happened that day for so long," he said wearily.

"Well, what do you know, Professor?"

"Almost nothing. Only that Minerva died and that's all, because I was under her body and couldn't see a thing," said Dumbledore, frowning as he tried to remember.

Harry sighed. "Yes, Professor McGonagall did die, but she wasn't the only one."

"Do you mean that somebody else has been killed?" asked Dumbledore seriously, expecting this.

Harry nodded. "Everybody has been killed. In Great Britain, there's, at the most, fifty wizards and witches."

Dumbledore face drained of colour. "What? But what happened exactly?"

Harry told him exactly what he'd told Hermione only some time before. Dumbledore listened intently and occasionally nodded.

"Merlin's beard," he said when Harry finished his story. "So Voldemort is definitely gone? Are you sure you destroyed all his Horcruxes?"

"Yes, I'm more then sure. There were seven, and we got rid of them all. Right, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I was with him when he destroyed all the remaining Horcruxes."

Dumbledore looked at her in some concern. "Are you sure you're alright, Miss Granger? You seem upset about something."

Hermione quickly wiped the traces of tears away. "No, no, I'm all right."

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"I was wondering if you-"

"If I could explain something about the events that happened during the Battle?"

Harry nodded. "Well, yes."

"Ah, Harry," said Dumbledore, moving slightly in his armchair. "I knew that sooner or later, somebody would ask me something like that. Actually, I can only make conjectures, but I think that explanations to what happened are quite clear."

"A-are they?" asked Harry, bewildered.

Dumbledore addressed Hermione. "What do you think, Miss Granger?"

"Well, actually, I only became aware of the facts just a little bit earlier. And I haven't had time to concoct any theories," she said, flushing.

"How is that possible? I thought you attended the Battle with Harry," said Dumbledore, frowning.

"I did, but I've been under a Memory Charm. At least, up until an hour ago," she whispered, looking down.

"Did you recover from this Memory Charm?"

"I did."

"Naturally, it will be very interesting for me to listen to your story. Let me just expound my theories, and then I'll be utterly happy to hear you," he said, smiling.

"Yes, sir," said Hermione, smiling weakly back.

"So, Harry, you said that your wand and Voldemort's connected during the Battle. I am correct in remembering that this had happened once before?"

"Yes, when Voldemort returned in my fourth year, in the maze of the Triwizard Tournament, our wands connected," said Harry, nodding.

"Perfect, and do you remember why?"

"Because our wands were 'twins' or something like that."

"Yes, Harry your wands were twins. That's why they connected every time you two duelled. The problem is that the last time it happened, you both used an Unforgivable Curse, which is a lot more powerful than any other spell. The force that spread from your wands must have generated a destructive Wave of Power."

"But why did the Wave kill so many people and destroy the entire magical community of Great Britain?" He stopped for a while, thinking deeply. "No, wait, why did it destroy almost all of the magical community while some things, like Hogwarts and the Leaky Cauldron and the Ministry of Magic, were left untouched?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Harry, when you send a spell against somebody, what do you do?"

"I point my wand at him," he said, rather surprised at the question.

"And you think at him, correct?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Well, Harry, what were you thinking when you sent your spell against Voldemort?"

"I wanted to destroy him," Harry replied bitterly.

"And what do you think he was thinking when he shouted the Avada Kedavra spell towards you?"

"I don't know, he wanted to kill me?" asked Harry, still not understanding what all these questions were useful for.

"Not only that, Harry," said Dumbledore. "Voldemort knew perfectly well that his wand united with yours would emit a great amount of energy. Let us say that he just thought on a larger scale."

"He sent his spell against the entire magical community?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He did. He wanted to get rid of all the things that stood against him."

"But the Death Eaters had all been killed," said Harry quickly.

"Ah yes. I don't think that Voldemort needed them after all. He wanted to be the only Dark Lord, and some of them were becoming much too powerful."

"D-did he kill his own followers?"

"I'm afraid he did, yes. The fact that some places have been wiped from the Earth, that's just a secondary effect. Magic connects everybody with everything."

"But some places haven't been destroyed at all," protested Harry.

Hermione was listening to the conversation intently, her eyes moving between Harry and Dumbledore's portrait as if she was watching a tennis match.

"You said that Hogwarts hasn't been destroyed, correct?"

Harry nodded, "And the Leaky Cauldron, Gringotts, Ollivander's and the Ministry of Magic."

"And what do you think all these places had in common, Harry?"

"I don't know," answered Harry, thinking.

"They were all important to Voldemort," answered Hermione.

Dumbledore clapped his hands. "Exactly, Miss Granger, exactly! They were all important places to Voldemort. He would have never permitted the place that freed him from the orphanage to be destroyed."

"And what about the Leaky Cauldron?"

"He used to go there when he was in Diagon Alley," said Dumbledore. "Ollivander's was the place where he bought his first wand, and he was interested in keeping Gringotts because it's full of gold and Galleons. The Ministry of Magic would have been his last conquest. He would have been delighted to see Fudge screaming under the Cruciatus Curse," he added, seeing that Harry had opened his mouth to say something.

"Oh," was all Harry could say.

"That makes sense," said Hermione.

Dumbledore looked at her. "It does indeed, Miss Granger."

"So Harry didn't kill anybody, did he?" she asked. Harry jumped; he hadn't thought about that.

"He didn't. Let us say that he had just been used by Voldemort," said Dumbledore, stroking his beard.

Harry didn't know if he should be ashamed of the relief he felt at these words. He hadn't killed anybody.

"But, Professor Dumbledore," asked Hermione shyly, "How did your portrait survive the Wave of Power? I'm pretty sure that Voldemort would have been utterly happy to destroy you too."

Dumbledore smiled. "I suppose he would, and how I survived is a lovely story to tell, in the real meaning of the word."

Hermione brought both her hands to her mouth and stepped back, a horrified look in her eyes.

"Hermione?" Harry looked at her without understanding her reaction.

Dumbledore smiled. "You know, you really are the cleverest witch that I've ever met, Hermione."

Harry looked at Dumbledore and then again at Hermione, "What?" he asked, puzzled.

"You understood, Miss Granger?" asked Dumbledore.

"I-I think I did," she stammered.

"And would you like to explain it to Harry?"

Hermione nodded and looked at Harry. "Harry, Dumbledore's portrait survived the Wave of Power for the same reason that I survived."

"What?" Harry looked at her, perplexed. "You know why you were able to survive?"

"I only realised it now. What Professor Dumbledore said made me reflect on something I thought had nothing to do with why I survived," she said, her eyes wide.

"What? Hermione, I can't understand what you are talking about," he said, taking her hands in his.

"Do you remember what Professor McGonagall said?"

"That she gave up her life to protect Dumbledore's portrait?" asked Harry uncertainly.

Hermione nodded. "Think, Harry. Your mother did the same thing with you, and she saved you from Voldemort."

Harry looked at her. "You're right, but that doesn't explain why _you,_" he said pointing at her, "survived."

"It does," she said miserably. "Somebody sacrificed himself to save mine."

Harry seemed to think deeply. Then, realisation dawned. "Ron?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded, "Ron."

"Hermione, what-"

She placed a finger to his lips. Dumbledore was following the scene with great interest.

Hermione sat down on the bed and looked straight in front of her, then she started to talk, her voice breaking from the pain of remembering. "I-I was fighting against Malfoy," she started. "And Ron was fighting some distance away from me against Crabbe. I-I can remember that I screamed 'Stupefy', but Malfoy easily avoided the spell, and while he was jumping away, he disarmed me. He turned his wand on me and smirked. He said that he had waited for ages. He would have enjoyed the sight of me dying slowly and painfully, but then he said that there was no time for that, so he just grinned evilly and screamed 'Avada Kedavra'. I closed my eyes, I-I think that I was ready to die," said Hermione, hiding her face in her hands.

"Hermione, what happened next?" asked Harry, hypnotised by her words.

Hermione looked at him between her fingers. "I felt somebody embracing me, and when I opened my eyes, all I saw was Ron's chest pressed against my face." She was so pale that Harry thought she could pass out any time.

"I screamed Ron's name, but he just looked at me and smiled and then Malfoy's spell hit him in the back and he fell on top of me. Then, everything became dark." She looked at Harry. "He gave up his life for me. I was protected against the Wave of Power because of his sacrifice, exactly like you were against Voldemort."

Hermione started to cry, but fought back the tears and looked at Dumbledore. "Am I right?"

Dumbledore smiled. "You are right," he said quietly.

Harry felt his heart growing heavy. Ron had given up his life to save Hermione's. He had lost one of his best friends, but without his sacrifice, he would have lost two. He suddenly realised how much he missed Ron.

"Miss Granger," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "what were you saying about the Memory Charm?"

Hermione looked at him. "I think Harry will be able to explain everything better than I can," she said slowly.

Dumbledore looked to Harry, interested.

Harry looked back at him, "I don't know where to start," he said uncertainly.

"I think that when you are in doubt, starting from the beginning is the best way to set a story," said Dumbledore, smiling.

Harry nodded and told him how he met Hermione at the Leaky Cauldron, how she fought the Imperius Curse, and that they decided to leave for a voyage that would touch all the places familiar to Hermione.

"Rubbish," said Dumbledore, cutting him off.

"What?" asked Harry, taken aback.

"Rubbish," repeated Dumbledore quietly.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

Hermione was looking at the portrait without understanding.

"Well, I don't know if you have ever heard of Miss Madley?" asked Dumbledore.

"Actually, I have. I decided to set off after I read on her file at the Ministry of Magic that she recovered from a Memory Charm after her father brought her on a voyage through all the places she used to know."

"Yes, as I was saying, rubbish," repeated Dumbledore.

"But why? She recovered from the Memory Charm," said Harry, puzzled.

"Yes, she recovered, but not because she travelled to all the places that she used to frequent."

"No?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No."

"Then what-"

"What is the most powerful spell you know, Harry?"

"The Unforgivable Curses?"

"Love, Harry, love," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Mr. Madley left his job and everything else behind to take his daughter with him. He must have showed great love for her to break the charm. And you," he said, looking at Harry. "You must love her with all your heart, to make her recover from the charm."

Harry lowered his eyes and looked at his hands, while Hermione flushed red.

"Well, actually we-"

"No, Harry, I don't want to know what you did. Even if I can imagine it," he said, smiling. "But Miss Granger must have felt that she was really loved. And tell me," he added practically to Hermione, "did you recover your memory all at once or little by little?"

"All at once," Harry answered for her.

"Actually, Harry, I'm not so sure," said Hermione thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" asked Harry, confused.

"Do you remember that in the last two days I heard voices?"

Harry nodded.

"I'm able to recognise them now," she said.

"Really?"

"Yes. First, I heard myself in Hogsmeade. Then I heard Lavender and Parvati when I was in the Girls' Dorm, and finally, Professor Dumbledore in his office."

"What? I thought you only heard voices twice," said Harry, looking at her.

Hermione shrugged. "I thought you would have said that I was crazy."

Harry smiled gently. "Then why did you hear those voices? You didn't explain that."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore, who smiled and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"Those voices were glimpses of my memory. The first time I heard them, you were hugging me and the third time you were saying to Professor McGonagall that you thought of me every moment of every day," she said, blushing. "But the second time, I don't know what-"

"I was imagining what it would be like to kiss you," said Harry, lowering his eyes and reddening.

Hermione looked at him, surprised, and then smiled sweetly.

"Well, well," said Dumbledore, smiling too. "I suppose that now everything is in its right place, don't you think?"

Harry looked at the portrait. "I still have one more question, Professor Dumbledore. May I ask it of you?"

"Of course, Harry," said Dumbledore.

"Since the day I fought the Last Battle, I've had nightmares every single time I closed my eyes."

Dumbledore nodded.

"But from the day I found Hermione, they stopped and I'm back to normal. I was wondering if maybe it was-"

"Love, Harry?" asked Dumbledore, smiling.

Harry nodded.

"It is. If your love for Hermione broke the Memory Charm, Hermione's love for you stopped your nightmares. Perhaps you own her as much as she owns you," said Dumbledore, smiling. "And now, I really think there's nothing else to explain?"

Both Harry and Hermione nodded.

"You know, I would like to be up on my wall again. Perhaps my hook is still there," said the portrait, chuckling.

"Actually, Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, giggling, "Professor McGonagall is waiting for you on the wall."

"Really?" asked Dumbledore, stroking his beard and setting his spectacles on his nose.

Harry and Hermione smiled and looked at each other.

"I think it's time to go then," said Harry, pulling the Portkey out of his backpack.

"Yes. Harry, let's go back to Hogwarts," said Hermione, smiling.

Harry picked up Dumbledore's portrait and looked at Hermione. "Ready?"

"Ready," she said, smiling.

They touched the Portkey together and after a moment, they were gone.


	15. A New Beginning

Disclaimer: I would love to own Harry Potter, but unluckily (or luckily) it's JKR that does that.

A/N: Sorry for the delay, but in Venice I didn't have internet. And I went to the library of my University for using their computers, but I couldn't open the file that my beta-reader had sent me. Anyway, here you are, the last chapter. I'm a little bit sad that this story is over, because I love it, but that's not so bad after all, because I can't wait to post the first chapter of the sequel. But before I give you some information about it, I wanted to thank you: thanks for reading this story, thanks to all the people that put this story in their Alerts list, in their Favourites list and in their C2s. And a very big thank you to all the people that reviewed in this last two years, those reviews really made my day. And thank you if you are going to review in the future! Now, back to the sequel for a moment before I leave you to the chapter… It will be called "_Don't Forget Me_", so, if you are interested, watch out for the first chapter in the next days. It will start a month after the end of this story, and it will be a little bit more adventurous and sad, with some 'apparitions' from the past of Harry and Hermione. Okay, I think I bored you enough with all this blah, blah, blah, better if you start reading the chapter right now. I hope you'll enjoy it.

To Danii: Thank you so much for beta-reading so quickly and for all your nice comments to my story. You are really supportive.

**A New Beginning **

Harry did his best to stand while his feet slammed onto the floor. He had Dumbledore's portrait in his hand and couldn't let it hit the floor.

Hermione fell at his side and hit her knees on the floor.

"Are you back? What a displeasure," said a nasty voice as they appeared in the Headmaster's Office.

Harry helped Hermione to get on her feet and ignored Phineas Nigellus.

"Are you okay?"

"Almost," said Hermione, rubbing her knees.

Harry smiled and walked in the direction of the wall where Professor McGonagall and Armando Dippet were hung.

"Oh, young Harry Potter and his lovely friend are back," said Armando Dippet. "Minerva!" he called to Professor McGonagall, who was snoring on her chair in her portrait.

Professor McGonagall moaned in her sleep and moved on the chair without waking.

"Minerva?"

"What?" she asked crankily, opening her eyes slowly.

"Look who's back," said Dippet, nodding towards Harry and Hermione.

Professor McGonagall suddenly became alert. "Oh," she exclaimed, sliding her glasses up her nose. "Oh, did you find him?"

Harry looked at her, "Actually, Professor McGonagall, we-"

"You didn't find him," she finished for him, looking despondent.

Harry raised his eyebrows and smiled at her. "Actually, Professor McGonagall, we did find him," he said, pulling Dumbledore's portrait from behind his back.

"Albus," she exclaimed happily, almost jumping out of her chair.

"Oh, my dear Minerva, I'm so pleased to see you," he said, smiling gently at her.

"Oh, it's wonderful to see you again. Where did you find him?" she asked Harry.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Dumbledore interrupted him. "Actually, Minerva, I think that Harry and Hermione are very tired, and all they need is some time for themselves. But I will be more than pleased to answer all your questions myself," he said kindly.

"Oh, yes, of course," she said. Harry hung Dumbledore's portrait on the wall between Dippet's and McGonagall's.

"Good night, Harry. Good night, Hermione," said Professor McGonagall to them.

"Good _night_? What's the time?" asked Harry, surprised.

"It's almost eight in the evening," said Dippet, nodding towards a clock on the other side of the room.

"Oh, that's really late. I would have said it was earlier," said Harry pensively.

"We better go, Harry," said Hermione, taking his hand.

He nodded. They exited the room hand in hand, bidding all the portraits good night.

Hermione walked quickly in front of Harry, letting go of his hand, and headed for the seventh floor. She muttered the password to the Fat Lady and entered the Gryffindor common room. Harry was right behind her.

"Well, if you want something to eat, I can-"

"No," said Hermione, turning to face him. "I can remember how to do a simple charm like that, but I'm not hungry."

"Let's go to sleep in the Boys' Dorm, then," he said, smiling at her.

"No," repeated Hermione. "No, Harry. I'm sorry, but I think that I need some time by myself. I need to understand some things."

Harry nodded in disappointment, but he understood.

Hermione stood on tiptoes and kissed him quickly before she headed for the Girls' Dorm. Harry followed her with his eyes until she disappeared behind a door without looking back, and then he sighed heavily. Then he slowly climbed the stairs to his dorm.

He lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He had spent almost thirteen years at Hermione's side without feeling anything but a great friendship for her, and now, in less then four days, he had learned to love her with all his soul. He was sure that he loved her, although he wouldn't have done any difference with her Memory Charm.

He closed his eyes, but the thought of Hermione didn't let him fall asleep very soon. However, it was not a bad delay; on the contrary, Harry enjoyed all his fantasies and thoughts. Next morning he would talk to her.

In the meantime, in the Girls' Dorm, Hermione was on the bed that used to belong to her, her face hidden in the pillow. The soft noise of her sobs filled the room. All she wanted to do now was give vent to her feelings. But she knew that next morning, she would have to face him.

---

When Harry woke up the next morning, he rubbed his eyes and smiled. He had slept very well; the best thing was his dreams. He had dreamt about Hermione all night long.

He jumped out of bed and heard his stomach rumble loudly. It had been almost 24 hours since he had last eaten. He decided that the first thing to do was to get some food. A mug of milk and some cookies appeared in front of him. He ate quickly and decided to wait for Hermione in the common room.

He hurried down the stairs and waited in front of the staircase that led to the Girls' Dorm. Almost twenty minutes passed and Hermione didn't appear. Harry decided to check the clock and discovered that it was seven thirty.

'Maybe it's too early, she must be still asleep,' he thought, moving towards an armchair next to the window. As he sat down, he glanced outside and his eyes fell on a small figure sitting near the Lake.

Harry opened the window and leaned out of it to concentrate on the figure. It was Hermione.

He slammed the window shut and hurried out of the common room, then he ran down seven staircases. When he reached the first floor, Filch screamed at him, "How am I supposed to sleep if everybody is running up and down at this hour?"

Harry simply ignored him and opened the old oak door that led to the grounds of Hogwarts.

He sprinted by Hagrid's hut, but when he caught sight of Hermione, he slowed down and tried to control his breathing.

He stopped when he was only feet away from her, and looked at her.

She was sitting on the grass with her arms around her legs. She had changed her clothes and now was wearing the light-blue dress that he had got for her. Her long hair was loose and wind-swept around her shoulders. She was looking at the Lake. She didn't seem to hear Harry as he approached her.

When he sat down next to her, she didn't even look at him. Harry followed her gaze and saw that she wasn't looking at anything in particular.

He cleared his throat loudly.

"I know you're here," said Hermione without looking at him.

"Good morning to you too, Hermione," said Harry jokingly.

Hermione smiled. "Good morning, Harry."

"What are you doing?" he asked her, leaning back on his elbow.

"Just thinking," she said, shrugging.

"Oh, yes, I remember that you used to – but now there's no need to tell you these things, because you remember as well," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, I remember," she whispered.

They sat there in silence for a good half-hour, while the cool morning breeze caressed their faces.

"Harry?" asked Hermione shyly, finally breaking the silence.

"Yes, Hermione?" answered Harry, looking at her.

"I wanted to ask you something," she said, still not looking at him.

"Yes?"

Hermione seemed to hesitate for a moment, and her voice shook slightly when she spoke. "W-what you told me yesterday – that you-"

"That I love you?" asked Harry, lowering his eyes.

"Yes. Well I wanted to know if you really-"

"If I really do?"

Hermione sighed. "Yes," she whispered.

"Hermione," he said seriously, "I do with all my heart."

Hermione closed her eyes and a tear slid down her cheek. Then she opened them and smiled. "Well, I'm happy, because, Harry I love you too, with all my heart," she said, finally looking at him.

Harry smiled and took her face between his hands, and kissed her very softly over and over. When they broke apart they were very close to each other and Harry's right arm was around Hermione's shoulders.

Hermione placed her head on Harry's chest and breathed in his scent. He did the same with her hair.

"Harry?"

"Mmmm?"

"What are we going to do now?" she asked him calmly.

"I don't know," he said slowly. "Maybe we really can live here at Hogwarts, as you suggested."

"No," she said placing her left arm around Harry's back. "No, I thought about that, and you were right. Hogwarts is a school, not a house. Sooner or later, it will be returned to its old use."

Harry nodded. "What do you think, then?"

"I thought about going back to our old work, but really, Harry, there are no more Dark Wizards to fight, and above all there are no more good people to protect," she said firmly.

"I can only agree with that," said Harry.

"I don't know what to do then," she said, a little depressed.

"Well, actually, I thought of something too, but I don't know if you'd be interested in that," said Harry, looking out at the Lake.

"Try me," she answered with a grin.

Harry smiled. "Why don't we leave?"

"Leave? And go where?" asked Hermione without understanding.

"I don't know, we can go wherever we want. It will be just the two of us, no thoughts, no worries. Just you and I," he said, holding her close.

Hermione didn't answer. She just looked in front of her with a thoughtful expression.

Harry had already given up hope when she spoke.

"Okay," she said simply.

Harry took a little while to recover from what he heard. "What?" he asked, after he had recovered.

"Okay," she repeated, tipping her head back to look at him and smiling warmly.

Harry smiled back and embraced her, leaning his cheek on her head. They looked at the Lake and knew that they would be happy.

They could have stayed there forever. Everything they needed was on their side, and a new beginning was waiting for them. No thoughts, no worries on their path. Just their love, and that was the most powerful thing that they had.

- The End -


End file.
